


between sun and sea

by ShadowAphelion



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked, Animal Death, Blood and Injury, Drowning, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, It's annoying, Like constantly, Lots of sailing and gathering, Mutual Pining, Seasickness, The beach vacation you've always wanted, Wilson continuously beats himself up, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2019-12-30 17:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18320354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowAphelion/pseuds/ShadowAphelion
Summary: Just a man and a woman sailing the highest tides, looking for a way back home.





	1. second chance

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of an idea last year and I finally had the energy to write about it. It's about to get sort of chaotic.
> 
> contains mentions of injury/vomiting; hold on to your life jackets

There’s a rising sun that casts over the horizon, giving the ocean a soft, orange glow. After hours of drifting and stillness and stargazing, Wilson was relieved to see the light of morning. It’d certainly warm the cool air and make it easier for him to spot islands from afar. Although a scientist, he wasn’t too acquainted with navigating with stars and thusly refrained after a number of incorrect trial and errors.

The ragged captain hat upon his head shielded his eyes from the sudden glare of the sun. It didn’t matter that he looted it from a corpse, or that it was too small for his large head of hair. It gave him a sense of dapperness and seemed to encourage him to… well, continue sailing.

His crew mate and friend slept peacefully on the other side of the boat, resting her head on her palm for leverage as the waves rocked them to and fro. He wondered how she was able to fall asleep so quickly in these uncomfortable conditions. Perhaps it was always in her nature to burn out at the end of the day, as the world pinched her like a dying match.

Their boat was small and rickety but it would do the job. Wilson was practically nudged up against her, even if he tried to scoot all the way over.

Wilson leaned over and gently tapped her shoulder. “Willow, wake up.”

She shifted slowly, trying to regain feeling of all of her limbs from being cramped overnight. There was a red mark on her cheek from having pressed it against her palm for so long. It was amusing, but Wilson refrained from making a comment. She could be cranky in the mornings.

“Mmh? Did we reach land?”

“No,” he said, shoulders slumping in slight disappointment. Not yet, anyway.

The islands they’d previously visited were not overly friendly nor resourceful. He predicted it would be awhile before they found a place to settle down, and even then they’d have to make do with what they had. He could tell from the windy air that storms would soon be approaching and Willow would let him have it, then, for being so indecisive.

“Then why’d you wake me, huh?” Willow eyed his silly hat and stuck out her tongue. “Dork.”

“Am not,” he rebutted. “You need to eat something. Here.”

Wilson paused from his aimless steering to dig through his thatchpack. Their food rations were low, but he kept his mood high. No point turning to insanity when nothing went his way.

“How do you feel about dried seaweed and crabbit?”

“Ugh, again?” She made a sour face. “I’m tired of eating that stuff. It’s salty and gross and I’m sick of seafood.”

“You know we don’t have anything else. Here, you can roast it more if you’d like,” he said, handing her the remains of their food. At this rate they couldn’t afford to be picky. She could cook it as long as she liked, as long as there was something in her stomach. The memories of her puking up a storm over the side of their boat after giving in to seawater was still an unpleasant image, to say the least.

The boat rocked slightly as Willow readjusted her position, now munching on her blackened seaweed-wrapped parcel with some reluctance. He could feel the heels of her shoes press against his back as she leaned against the side of the boat. “We should find an island with lots of trees,” she said wistfully, “so that I can set it on fire.”

“Or an island with a stone region so that I may build us a machine.”

“Or- haha- an island with a _lottery machine!_ Wouldn’t that be just perfect, Wilson?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, turning his body to look at her. “If you’re into gambling, sure-“

“Hey! What’s that?” Willow stood up- or nearly stood up until Wilson grabbed her wrist and lowered her down so that she wouldn’t topple the boat over- and narrowed her eyes towards something in the distance. “I think I see something!”

“Willow, careful!” He frowned. “What is it? And don’t jump up like that. I don’t see anything.” Was her head okay? He tried to see beyond the blue horizon but there was only an endless amount of ocean. Perhaps she was just playing tricks on him.

His friend huffed impatiently and leaned over to grab the sides of his face with her hands. Wilson flinched at her touch, wondering what she’d do next, until she simply turned his head to face the other direction. “You’re looking the wrong way, silly.”

“Oh!” She was right- Wilson could barely make out the soft silhouette of trees in the far distance. Land. With a soft chuckle, he said: “You didn’t need to scare me like that.”

She gave him a look. “I scared you?”

“Oh, yes. Seeing your face made me jump- ow!”

Willow stuck out her tongue, grinning as he rubbed the sore spot on his shoulder. He supposed he deserved that one.

Wilson steered the boat towards their new hope, adrenaline rushing through his veins. What sort of island would this be? He hoped there wouldn’t be too many monsters they’d have to fight. The trees would suggest as such. Spiders, at the very least, but who knew if there’d be some giant nest of _something_ waiting to jump out and kill the both of them.

The thought made him shudder.

Willow leaned against his back, forehead pressing against him to shelter herself from the rising sun she loved so much. “You can go back to sleep if you want. I’ll wake you when we get there,” he suggested.

“No, it’s okay. I just need to…” she drifted off into mumbling that Wilson couldn’t make out and he figured that she just needed a break from watching the ocean. It tended to make her feel nauseous.

And so he continued sailing without much of a break. His eagerness to reach land and curiosity for what laid beyond fueled him to keep going, for both his and Willow’s sake. He made Willow put on her straw hat, then, as the sun began to burn them from above, despite Willow’s claim that she was fine and didn’t need it.

As they neared the shore, he could indeed see the jungle that the island possessed. Sandy shores as per usual, and several rocks gathered together. The potential so far was good.

“Oh, hey, we made it,” Willow said groggily as she sat up again, yawning like a kitty and stretching her aching bones. “This one looks the same.”

“I can assure you it’s not. Look,” he pointed to the mound of boulders in the distance, “there’s our reward.”

Willow crossed her arms, unamused. “Yaaay, boring rocks.”

Wilson carefully stepped out of the boat as it skidded up to the sandy shore. It felt so good to stretch his legs after all this time, and the breeze running through his clothes and hair felt like a brief luxury. Willow took the hand he offered to her as she stepped off the boat, a little wobbly. No doubt her heels made it difficult for her to walk let alone tread in the sand.

“We should get to work. Can you gather food for us while I mine?”

She adjusted her messy pigtails, fixed her crooked and floppy hat. Her face held an expression of weariness. “Yeah.”

He held her shoulders in hand, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Okay. I’ll be over there, please don’t get hurt. And call for me if you n-“

“I know, I know,” Willow interjected. “I’ll call for you, blah blah blah… I can take care of myself.”

Wilson didn’t entirely doubt that, but she was still groggy and seasick and didn’t have much to eat. He’d feel awful if something happened to her because they decided to split up. He silently promised himself that he’d be quick.

“Meet me here when the sun sets,” he said. Willow nodded and he gave her shoulder a final squeeze as the two of them headed off towards separate parts of the island; Wilson towards the rocky biome and Willow towards the jungle.

They had used up all of their spare flint making tools, and now they could start getting somewhere. These boulders had pieces and bits of gold sticking out which made him both excited and relieved. Gold, unfortunately, was much rarer than anything else and his fingers twitched at the thought getting to work with them. He mined them quickly, salvaging every material he could get from the boulders and putting them safely in his bag. The sooner they had their camp set up, the better.

A slow glance around the island and Wilson scratched at his fuzzy chin in thought. It was big enough to have camp somewhere away from predators and he doubted that Willow would want to continue sailing. _Yes,_ he thought as he made his way into the jungle, _this island would do quite nicely._

On the beach the sand was warm and the ocean breeze cool, yet in the jungle the air felt even more muggy and thick, like he was wading through a fishbowl. No physical sign of Willow but the loud cawing of distant birds and other creatures and the light scent of smoke. And the overwhelming sense that he was being watched.

“Willow?” He called out into the open. No response as he had expected, but she probably wasn’t too far off if what he was smelling was indeed smoke. No need to be worried over nothing. The water bordered them from all around and it would be a silly thing for them to get lost.

Wilson wandered through the jungle, picking up whatever resources he could gather along the way: grass, twigs, reeds. The blade of his machete was becoming dull but at least it wouldn’t be an issue with all of the flint he found.

He kneeled down to pick up some berries and then a loud scream in the distance shook him from his thoughts and sent a chill down his spine.

“Willow?!” He jumped to his feet and looked around but the jungle was lush and overbearing and he couldn’t see her from where he was standing. He called out her name again and she yelled back, causing him to run in her direction.

He _knew_ he shouldn’t have split up with her! If Willow was hurt he’d never forgive himself for it, even if she insisted she’d always be careful and fine and was stronger than him. Her tendency to be stubborn and careless had the power to give him a heart attack.

Wilson saw a flash of red between the trees and immediately rushed to her side. His loud panting and heavy footsteps made Willow turn to look at him with wide eyes that suggested she thought he was an enemy for less than a split second.

“They stole my lighter!” She yelled angrily, fists clenched so tightly that her hands were turning red. There were a couple of monkeys in front of them and a strange looking den not too far away. Huh, they hadn’t come across monkeys, yet. Perhaps they were only native to this particular island.

An inward sigh of relief that she wasn’t hurt as he had previously thought. He put a hand on her arm, “Willow, who did?”

She gave him a dumbfounded look, as if he was simply _supposed_ to know who did it, and wildly gestured to the animals in front of her. “Geez, I dunno! How about those stupid, smelly _jerks!”_ She stepped forward in an attempt to swing at them but Wilson pulled her back. The monkeys laughed at her mockingly, throwing Willow’s beloved object back and forth to one another. He could almost feel her tremble furiously beneath his hand, she was so upset. He had to break her out of her sudden state of shock.

“We’ll get your lighter back. Grab your axe.”

Wilson still wielded his machete, that although dull, would do the trick well. He and Willow often had their own strategy for fighting things together, even before they became shipwrecked. When she didn’t resort to using fire, they’d often corner the beast between them and close off any escape route the animal would have. He hoped for Willow’s sake that their little trick would work here.

With Willow ready to spill blood, Wilson took the lead and made his way around the monkeys. They noised their curiosity quite loudly; their game was being disrupted. From here, Wilson could spot the tiny pout on his friend’s focused face.

They didn’t need to murder all of them, just whichever one had her lighter. He indicated with a nod towards the monkey who currently possessed it, and together they lunged towards it. The group of animals sprinted away but with Willow and Wilson singling out the thief, its demise would be inevitable. He chased the monkey back in her direction and… its head rolled back, blank eyes twitching at him as blood pooled around it.

Willow had decapitated the animal in one swift chop, and her chest heaved as she weakly lifted the axe and held her lucky lighter to her chest. She was visibly shaking.

“That’s what you get,” she said, tucking away her weapon and keepsake. Wilson looked her over once more and gently held her jaw, ensuring that she was okay, and then wiped a speck of blood off her cheek with his thumb. She opened her mouth to say something but instead came loud screeches from afar.

There was an angry choir of monkeys behind them, he quickly realized. “We gotta go.”

Wilson took ahold of her wrist and began running. He laughed to himself bitterly; it was always his instinct, then, to run. Now that Willow had her lighter, he was certain that she felt the opposite, but he couldn’t afford to have this jungle burn down. Not while he was still considering settling here.

She was sluggish at first but was able to match his pace, even moving much faster than him. Something whizzed by his ear and flew into a nearby tree. They were _throwing_ things at them?

Willow was laughing- a tired, flutey laugh as they made their way out of the dense jungle and onto the sandy shore. “That was disgusting! They almost got you.” She was wearing a big grin and for once, it wasn’t infectious. He was too out of breath and heaving to take part of her enjoyment.

“What do you mean?”

“They were throwing poop at us,” she covered her mouth to hide her smile. At least she was finding some entertainment, here. “And they totally almost got you.”

Wilson frowned, adopting his characteristic pouty face and arms-crossed look. “Ha-ha, very funny. Do you have everything?”

The woman checked her pockets, her bag, and the big floppy hat still atop her head. “Yeah. And that reminds me!” She opened her leaflet bag to show him an abundance of charcoal. Ah, so that’s what he was smelling earlier. “Now we can cook something even better.”

Wilson mindlessly picked at the grass and twigs in the area, an idea in his head to begin making a small clearing for camp. The mention of food made his stomach grumble and he hoped Willow had found a worthy surplus. The day wasn’t over yet so there was still more time to scavenge, but he’d like to get to work on that machine. Maybe he could get Willow to burn down that monkey hutch if he asked ever so nicely.

Willow knelt down on the warm sand and emptied the dirt from the insides of her heels. Ever since they became shipwrecked, she had been donning her usual red sweater and plain attire. With sailing being a new challenge, he doubted the quality of their clothes would last for much longer and soon they’d have to start sewing more. He wasn’t looking forward to that part.

He stared at her for a moment, nonchalantly observing her small figure- she looked so comfortable and relaxed for a change- and settled in the empty space next to her. Emptying out his own pack, he began to assemble the materials for his machine.

“I should have this up by sundown,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

Willow clawed her fingers through her pigtails in a meager attempt to brush them. “A little annoyed. You keep worrying about me.”

Her voice sounded so serious and peeved but when he looked up she had the tiniest phantom of a smile on her face. “Am I not supposed to?” He asked.

“You can, it’s just silly.” A yawn from her, and then: “Are we gonna stay here?”

He nodded. “It’s got most of the resources we need. We’ll have to map out the surrounding islands later but I want to have a camp for the upcoming seasons.”

“Yeah, I guess it is getting kinda windy. How about I leave some of my stuff here so you can use it for your science mumbo jumbo? I think I’m gonna go explore some more.” She brushed off her skirt as she stood up.

“Oh! That’d be wonderful, yes. Thank you, Willow.”

“Uh huh. And before I leave, I got a surprise for you.”

Well, now this was only a little concerning, he thought playfully. “And that is…?”

“Close your eyes! No peeking.”

He gave her a semi-threatening glare as he closed his eyes.

“And open your mouth.”

“Willow-“

“Shh! Just open it.”

She made him want to pull his hair out sometimes. “Willow, if you’re gonna put a reed in my mouth again, then I don’t want to d-“

The sand shifted in front of him, a loud thud. Willow must’ve stomped her foot. “I’m being earnest this time! I mean it.”

Reluctantly, he opened his mouth and subjected himself to this embarrassing position. He could feel her come close enough to feel her breath on his cheek, and then something light and soft landed on the top of his tongue. He moved it around in his mouth, surprised that he tasted the tart juice of the red berries he had grown to miss. His eyes flew open and he saw Willow holding out a handful of them to him.

“Where did you get these?! Do they grow here?” Wilson reached for more and hungrily stuffed them down.

She handed him the rest before gently patting his fluffy head. “Yup! And I’m gonna find more. You’re weeeelcome.”

“You’re the best,” he said. And he meant it.

She smiled at that. “I know.” She shuffled some things out of her pack and then picked up her stuff and headed elsewhere.

Well, the materials in front of him weren’t going to assemble themselves. By now, he’d made the wooden stands for the machine and was twisting some of the strands of grass he had for rope. Soon, Wilson thought as he bit the inside of his cheek, the berries leaving a tangy and strangely sandy aftertaste; soon they could eat better food and have floors and walls and a big fire pit for Willow.

He’d estimate a few days to their camp at most for everything to be set up in time. And then there was the situation with getting rain gear. The odd feeling of deja vu that always lingered in this cursed place. Neither he or Willow knew how long they’d been here or how many times they had died, only that a fleeting moment would come and go and suddenly they were shipwrecked all over again. Always together, never apart.

Wilson sat back on his heels, taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat from his forehead. There, the machine was done and magnificently put-together. It never took him as long as Willow claimed.

He wanted to at least have some other things done before Willow came back at nightfall. She’d left him the charcoal she gathered, a couple logs, flint. His own supply of rocks and gold and all of their science-y potential. Yes, it’d do perfectly.

A cold breeze against his back and he began to pick up the pace.

 

* * *

 

It’s far too early in the morning when Wilson finishes setting up the last of their camp and suggests to Willow that they should go back out onto the ocean before the sun rises.

His wonderful crew mate is disgusted by the idea, of course, and she scrunches up her nose and sticks her tongue out at him for even thinking of it. Her head is laying on his lap and she’s munching on a variety of foods that she poked together with a stick, concentrated on the roaring fire in front of them. The stars are bright and the jungle is asleep, a hiss and bout here and there, and the ocean is calm and peaceful.

They’ve got better weapons now, and better backpacks. Wilson no longer dons his captain’s hat for the sake of his own hair, which Willow thinks is a silly and stupid idea. He doesn’t tell her that he cares a lot about his hair but she doesn’t need to guess.

He’s made a few new inventions, too. One of them being a trap made from palm leaves and bottles and a jellyfish that Willow managed to pull in from the shore. He’s eager to try it out and catch those damn wobsters that scuttle away when they approach.

“I’d rather go when the sun’s up,” she said, voice still groggy from waking up a short while ago. Her hands fidgeted with the kabob in her hands as she finished the last piece and then threw the stick into the fire. “It’s warmer that way. We can see where we’re going, too.”

“I must remind you that _I_ burn, unlike you.” He lightly booped the tip of her nose and she looked up at him, startled. A sunburnt Wilson was an unhappy Wilson.

“Our boat’s fit for a light. Just needs a little flame. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind,” he added.

Willow huffed and turned on her side to face the fire. His legs were starting to feel numb but he refrained from readjusting. He didn’t want to risk having her comforting presence move away, as embarrassing as it sounded. Wilson looked at the night sky, hoping his face wasn’t as red as the fire in front of him.

“Yeah, well,” Willow closed her eyes, “I don’t like the sea that much. Where’re we gonna go, anyway? The grocery store?”

He wished that were the case. “No. I want to find more materials. Gears would be nice, and a better sail. Silk, too.”

Willow huffed. “You make things so boring. It really does feel like we’re going on a grocery hunt,” she admitted. She sat up and said quietly: “I’m just sick of all this.”

“Hm? Oh, I don’t blame you. This place isn’t your normal tropical vacation. Think Maxwell could get us a refund?”

“Oh, ha-ha.” She gently shoved his leg and then sat up to turn to face him. She looked weary and done with just about everything but the light in her eyes was still there, burning endlessly. Like she still clung onto hope, even if it neared impossible and she didn’t act like she still had it.

Willow searched his blue eyes. “I’m serious, Wilson. I hated it less when our world was normal and we could fight the easy stuff.” That was debatable, but he didn’t think she wanted his input on that. She was the better fighter between the two of them, of course. “I hate the ocean and all the monkeys and the rain! All the constant rain. I’m tired.”

He mindlessly brushed away the bangs that were beginning to stick to her forehead with sweat. She had a valid point, but like most things with survival, they didn’t really have a choice. “I know,” he said. Blinked once or twice in thought and then added: “You can stay here and I’ll go by myself then, hm?”

Willow shot up, scattering sand everywhere. “No!”

He frowned and opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it. “What if you get lost? Or something kills you? I wouldn’t even _know-“_

He reached for her hand and held it, tenderly brushing his thumb against her palm. It was oddly cold and clammy. Was she getting sick?

There was that panicked look in her eyes again. It wasn’t like her to worry about him this much, but he hypothesized that she must’ve felt more anxiety if he happened to be oceans away. An island had limited space and they could never lose each other, so Willow was right in the sense that if something was to kill him out there, she would never even know. It was far too early for resurrection items. The thought of death in that split moment, even, sent him chills.

Especially since they’ve already witnessed it once before.

(He couldn’t guarantee that they’d be lucky enough to find each other next time.)

“Nothing would happen to me.” A blatant lie and an even stupider promise. “Although I suppose it would be easier to keep my word if you came along.”

Her hand squeezed his, now gaining a sudden warmth that a second ago was absent entirely. How strange. She wasn’t lying on her arm so she couldn’t have lost feeling in it… and perhaps she wasn’t sick as he had previously thought. Willow offered what little of a reassuring smile that she could manage, as if she didn’t feel anything from her drastic temperature change. “Yeah, fine. I’m coming.”

Wilson dismissed the thought for now. Together, they gathered their things beneath the dim moonlight. Willow lit the torch for their boat and with a huff, he pushed the boat into the murky sea and set sail for the unknown. He was eager to find another island with more surprises.

He sat back and let the boat steer in a straight line. As long as the oceans were calm, there wouldn’t be any issues. It always felt so endless in the dark, as if he happened to fall in, something would tug on his legs and pull him down under and suffocate him. The paranoia of what existed among the waves was something he tried to reserve for the day time. He was thankful that Willow came with him, then. Her company was… warm and soothing, like the fire from her lighter that lit up their path.

Long hours of nothingness wished him more sources of entertainment. Willow yawned, just as bored and tired as he, and once again a victim to the drowsiness that came with sailing. There was something that caught his eye in the water, a whole bunch of glowy bugs that almost looked like stars from a distance. Up close they flickered and floated above the gentle sea. He caught a few with his hands and then nudged his sleepy friend who made a small noise in confusion.

“Hold out your hands.”

She tilted her head curiously but did what he said, too exhausted to question his intent. Carefully, hands still cupped around the fireflies, he let them go in Willow’s hands and they twinkled and danced in her palms. Her eyes flew open in surprise.

“Because you light up my life,” he mused.

Willow let out a tiny laugh, playing with the bugs and letting the soft glow bathe them in a pretty and scientific blue light. “You’re such a nerd.” She looked behind him, watching the firefly trail grow smaller and smaller as they gained more distance between them. “There were so many!”

“Keep these ones,” he suggested. “We might be able to put them to good use later.”

Her mouth twitched as she laughed. “Okay, Mister Romantic.”

He scowled and Willow called him out on his grumpiness and inability to take a joke, which made him scowl even harder.

The air grew silent again with their thinking. It was easy to lose yourself to the sound of waves gently hitting the boat.

“Were you gonna test that thing out, or?”

Wilson was staring at the soft light hitting her skin, lost in thought until her voice roused him out of it. “Hm?”

She gestured towards the invention laying at his feet. Paid no attention to his ungentlemanly staring, thankfully. “Your weird sea-trap.”

“Oh! Oh, yes, I was.” Heart racing far too fast for his liking, Wilson picked up the trap and examined it like how a mother examined her baby, face lighting with pride. “For the deadliest catch.”

Willow snorted.

“I don’t prefer to use bait at this moment.” He peered into the ocean and saw murky blue. They weren’t too far out, so hopefully this would be of some use. Sea traps weren’t that complicated to make anyway.

He dropped it into the water and watched it bob up and down. “Here’s to having dinner tomorrow, hopefully,” he said to Willow with a grin.

She returned his smile. “I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

Their boat began to hit rougher waters as they sailed out into a much deeper area. The waves were getting especially stronger over time, as well as the wind. If he wasn’t careful, they’d both end up shipwrecked. Again.

He wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to Willow.

“Hold on tight. I’m going to try to steer us through this.” Any sudden turns and they could capsize. A wrong timing and they’d be soaked and washed away in the black sea.

He felt Willow wrap an arm around his waist, hand tightly clinging to his waistcoat. Her other hand gripped the edge of the boat to steady herself as they rocked violently. The splashes of water that whipped against their faces certainly didn’t help their vision (or his sense of direction, at the very least).

Willow was always excited about going over waves, but not this time. He could feel her hiding in his back again, an attempt at finding shelter against the icy water. A muffled voice at his back. “Hurry up and get out of this already!”

In any other scenario, Wilson would be finding himself at the bottom of the ocean by now. The harsh clinging of Willow’s grip around him combined with what whatever will to live he had left fueled him to find a way out of this. With only the dying fire of their torch, their light radius extremely limited, he could find this something short of a horror movie scenario.

And to make matters worse, he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Something far bigger than their boat and any wave he’s seen thus far.

Right, he didn’t need two hands to sail. He held his hand over Willow’s where it rested at his chest. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

He stopped looking where he was sailing for the smallest of a second. The thing he thought he had seen had disappeared beneath the waves. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him, although he didn’t feel a headache coming on…

No, wait, there it was again, merging above the sea! A split glance at its huge fin and suddenly Wilson was wishing he never suggested this outing in the first place.

“Well, that’s terrifying,” he murmured, doubting that Willow could hear him from all the crashing around them.

She slipped her hand out of his and leaned to get a sight of it, almost toppling them over completely. “Willow!”

He didn’t need to look at her to know that her gray eyes were wide open. “My nightmares have come true!”

“Stop leaning on the edge, please,” he begged. They were beginning to teeter to the side. He hooked a finger to her shirt and let her fall back to her seat, sighing in relief that he was able to avoid the undesirable outcome of capsizing by some degree.

“I didn’t even know sharks could get that big!” She shook her head. “Now I’ve really seen everything.”

“Just be glad it’s not taking a bite out of us right now.” It appeared to have swam way past them; he couldn’t see its fin anymore. And thankfully, the sun was beginning to rise. Sailing would be much easier with his undeterred sight back.

There was shuffling and movement behind him. Willow was probably squeezing the water out of her clothes and pigtails.

“So, you dream about sharks?” He quipped.

She shoved him playfully. “No!” A short pause. “Maybe. Only sometimes.”

He laughed, though not something of a malicious intent. Of course she dreamt of the Constant’s monsters- so did he. With the exception that they were of the seasonal giants they had grown to despise. They didn’t seem so bad now compared to this world’s alternatives. But sometimes the dreams of hounds tearing his skin apart still lingered in his head like stinging scratches.

“What else do you dream about?”

“Mm…” there was the sound of the flicking of her lighter and the spur of fire that came to life, “mostly water. A lot of nasty water. Sometimes I feel like Maxwell just wants to see me drown.”

The sailing had gotten a bit easier now, the waves merciful as they approached calmer waters. He turned and faced Willow, their knees touching from the small size of their boat.

“I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if he had a death wish for us.”

“You have nightmares too, don’tcha? You can’t lie cuz I know it’s true.” He blinked at her. “You move around a lot in your sleep.”

He cleared his throat. “I won’t deny that. Of course, sharks aren’t my scariest idea of a nightmare,” he said, meeting her eyes. Willow gave him another slap, probably thinking that he was mocking her inner fears again.

Wilson looked her over now that they weren’t being jostled around like rag dolls. Like him, she was a bit soaked in the sides and looked like she could use more sleep. It was too bad that they’d be approaching another island soon otherwise he’d let her nap again.

There was a piece of seaweed in one of her tails and he watched in amusement as she snuffed it out and considered eating it. Funny how years of surviving in a strange land makes you question whether to waste potential food or not.

…And food it should be. She hovered it over her lighter’s small flame in a slow roast. Willow leaned against him and he felt his heart skip a beat. “What else do you think’s out there?”

He turned back to the front of them to see if they were there yet and, nope, but pretty close. He hummed in thought. “Other ocean life, I would think. Dolphins and whales and such.”

“No, I meant like… giant… wise. That thing was pretty huge! I’d still kick its butt if we were on land, just you wait and see.”

“Ha, I’m sure.” Honestly, he hoped there wouldn’t be anything else like that gigantic striped shark, but he knew- out of personal experience- that there were more horrifying creatures out there waiting to wring both their necks.

“Maybe there’s a big ol’ pirate we gotta fight,” he said with his finger out towards her like a hook. She captured it with her own and grinned.

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Or maybe a giant crabbit. I’m sure they have a leader somewhere down in that sand colony of theirs.”

“Pffft! You’re so silly. I think my ideas are better.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Oh? And what might those be?”

“Maybe there’s a giant s-“

The boat hit something rough and Willow lurched forward, hands flying out in brace of impact. He caught her shoulders before she crashed into him and turned to see that they had finally made it to the shore.

“You didn’t say anything?!”

She smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t think we’d crash like that.”

“It’s a good thing our boat’s still barely in one piece. We’ll definitely need to repair it now.”

Willow shakily stood up and hopped onto the warm sand. “Uuuh huh. Sure thing, captain Wilson.”

He reached up to pat the top of his head. Darn it, he left his hat at camp. Wonderful.

Hands upon her hips, Willow took in the new island as Wilson secured the boat to shore. “It looks like we’ve got another jungle. You know, I’m still hoping for that lottery machine, otherwise I’ll never know what to do with these shiny things.”

She shuffled the doubloons she’d been keeping in her pocket, reminding him of their fake fortune. Free money that had dropped from parrots, of all things. He seriously doubted the existence of a gambling machine on _any_ island and already planned on grinding the useless things back to its original gold material. When Willow wasn’t looking, of course.

“Remember, we need silk and bamboo,” Wilson said. He walked into the jungle and she followed close behind. Another gust of wind, “And snakeskins too.”

“That’s about to be at the top of my list,” she said.

“You’re welcome to commit snake genocide at any time.” He couldn’t explain it, but the air pressure felt different with the storm arriving soon. If there was as big of a rainfall as he was expecting, then they’d need enough gear for the both of them. Willow was eager to fight snakes so he’d let her. He’d just have to take care of the spiders himself.

Willow winked. “I won’t be too long, then. See-ya!”

She waved him a little goodbye and Wilson wished her good luck. He’d attempt to make his own errand nice and quick, even with those nasty, venomous spiders. Wilson silently hoped that Willow wouldn’t come across her own venomous snake; he’d be fearful and unsure of what to do otherwise.

A couple hours to himself and… there. Bundles of silk and a variety of other goods now settled in his heavy pack, Wilson looked to the sky to see that it was late in the afternoon. They’d been here for far too long and he had an uncertain feeling that they’d be paying the price for lack of preparation.

Several of the cuts along his wrists and arms stung bitterly, but perhaps he could mend them later. He needed to find Willow and get back to camp as soon as possible.

The wind was getting merciless. A glance to the coast and there were gulls out on the sea, squawking loudly as they searched for food.

It was messing up his nice hair, too.

“Willow?” He called out into the jungle once more. He’d been doing that a lot, lately.

There was something headed toward him and- ah, there she was! Thank goodness he didn’t have to go too far.

She had a wonderful smile etched on her face, like she always did when she was successful, or burned something down, or became successful by burning things down. Her ashy fingers said otherwise, and he saw that she had her own matching injuries as well. “I got a lot! I don’t think this place’ll have a snake problem any time soon.”

“That’s good,” he said mindlessly as he gently lifted her hand and examined her scratches. Not too bad, but there were several bites around her ankles where her stockings had torn. Did that not seem to hurt? Or did the adrenaline from setting fires ease the pain? She frowned at his concern.

“I’m not poisoned,” she insisted.

He let go of her hand. “We’ll find out if you’re retching, later.”

“I’m _not!”_

 

* * *

 

It takes about an hour, but they finally make it back home.

At camp, Wilson is already working on prototypes for their rain clothing. He has all of his materials splayed out in front of him and he scratches his itchy beard in thought.

Willow is sitting near him, trying to patch up her bites and scratches with the spider glands he acquired. Except it’s all mashed into a salve, now. He can see her wincing at the corner of his eye as she shakily applied the pink goop to the bites at her ankle. There was one in particular that seemed to be causing her more pain than the others.

He pauses in his work and asks for her to hand him the salve. “Let me do it.” She was getting dirt and ash and animal blood all over it anyway, and he couldn’t imagine how unsanitary it was.

The burning pain must’ve been unbearable, even for a woman of high tolerance. He already felt ashamed for suggesting that they split up once more, and Willow ended up getting seriously hurt this time around. Why couldn’t he learn his lesson and stay together?

“But I can do it myself,” she said with gritted teeth. His hand was still towards her, and she reluctantly handed the medicine over. “Fine, but you need to let me heal you too. You haven’t even-“ she exhaled a noise of pain as he took over to applying the salve, “-started on your scratches.”

The swollen bite seemed to be the most intolerable one of all her wounds and he can’t recall if she’s ever been bitten by a snake before. He’d ask her what color the snake was but her eyes were shut tightly and she looked as if she was holding her breath in anticipation of the next sting. And he hadn’t even spread the medicine over the actual wound, yet.

“I’ll be quick,” Wilson murmured and gently brushed his fingers along the swell of the bite. Her skin was sweaty and sticky and she looked paler than usual. He’d have to wrap the wound in cloth for now and keep a close eye on her.

“All better?”

She opened her eyes and examined the makeshift bandage, looking satisfied with his work, but still uncomfortable. She let out a shaky breath. “A little. Now give me your hand.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and she weakly snatched his hand. “So demanding. No thank-you?”

“Shush.”

Wiping her fingers on the hem of her skirt, she began applying what little of the salve they had left to his scratches. They hurt quite painfully, but he couldn’t allow himself to be dramatic when Willow had a much worse wound that she was enduring. The touch of her fingers along his forearm made it a lot more soothing, though.

He drifted into thought and tried to remember what happened the last time they had been shipwrecked. His sort of wounds felt familiar, like he’d been getting scratched and mauled for ages. His inventions were familiar, and so was Willow. But every time he tried to think about his last life, it just became a blur that ended in him having a headache. He can’t pinpoint their exact time of death, only that it was blindingly bright and there was a heavy feeling in his chest and when he came to his senses, Willow was already there.

“Willow.” She looked up from her concentration on his arm. “How did we die?”

Her lashes fluttered, blinking in quick confusion. “I told you, I don’t really remember.” She focused back unto his arm but continued to steal glances at him, as if he wouldn’t take notice.

Wilson frowned. “It didn’t hurt for you, did it?”

“Nooo… quick and painless.”

He wanted to ask her to elaborate, have her tell him more about it again, but she looked faint. Once more, he would need to put off the subject, as much as he wanted to continue asking questions. She clearly wasn’t in the state to answer them. “Okay.”

Her touch wavered and he patted her hand in finality, signaling that she could stop and take a break. She laid back in the sand and let soaked in the golden sunlight, a sigh of relief.

“Go ahead and get some rest. I’ll make dinner for when you wake up,” he suggested. He still had to finish making their clothes, after all. And he was eager to make something with the wobsters they caught.

Willow leaned up, just a little. “But what about… you know,” she nudged the snakeskin with her foot. “Don’t you want any help?”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry.” The adorable frown on her face almost made him laugh. She must’ve felt guilty not being able to help him with anything.

But Willow was there for him, always, and she’d rescued him a countless number of times in the Constant. Gave him refuge when his camp was destroyed and shared hers so he had a place to sleep. Always gave him food to eat and always provided him the warm, safe light of a fire. Now she was the one being silly.

“If ya say so.” She lied back down and her tiny voice mumbled from behind him. “I’m sorry.”

* * *

 

On the first day of the new season, their hair is immediately tousled and frazzled like a bird’s nest, sticking everywhere and puffing due to the harsh winds. Overall, the world appears to be the same, if not for the unlikeable weather changes. Several species had disappeared but there were now seagulls that flocked to their camp and refused to leave. Their squawking could drive Wilson to madness.

Because the wind is so strong, the waves have gotten much bigger, so sailing is riskier. Willow’s condition hadn’t gotten any better despite how good it felt for her to have her bandages replaced. It always seemed like she was teetering back and forth between life and death. She always said she was fine, but if he wasn’t careful enough, he could lose her.

Besides that, the hurricane season was just fantastic.

Walls now surround what little of a camp they have set up. Chests here and there, and a new gizmo Wilson’s been working on. He has Willow build and gather the supplies while he puts the full thing together.

Right now, though, Willow is resting under a makeshift palm leaf hut for some resistance to the rain. It was a good thing they’d built their coats in time, otherwise they’d be in a more uncomfortable condition.

She looks mostly dry except for the tips of her pigtails which flop down, soaking. Without having to interrogate her on how she feels, he can already tell that the change in weather has put a damper on her mood and being well, _poisoned_ , that he’d need to mind his step around her irritable attitude. She couldn’t help it and neither could he, especially since they couldn’t afford to stop their gathering and exploring routine and often had to work in unbearable circumstances.

If they could find a way off the island in the Constant- technically- they could find a way to get off these ones. Whatever this oceanic world was. He just needed to think more. Redo his numbers and equations.

A whine came from the hut and he looked to see his partner flickering her lighter on and off, shaky and fidgeting. Nothing new there, but maybe she had a headache?

“Everything alright? Do you need a-“

“No, I don’t need a stupid mushroom,” she spat bitterly.

He was unfazed by this but she still offered him a look of apology. “Sorry. I’m just sick of those. I wish it’d stop raining so I could go out and fight stuff.”

Wilson paused in the middle of working on his machine, “Not in your condition.” His eyes flashed to her ankle, where the wound was still red and swelling.

Another whine. “Seriously, what’s your deal? I told you I was fine!”

“You feel fine _now_ but you won’t in a few hours. Heck, if I took you on a lovely afternoon stroll along the beach, you’d see the ocean and probably throw up.”

Willow opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out, indicating that she had not yet thought of her usual, witty response. Instead, she turned around and gave him the cold shoulder. Wilson shook his head.

“We’ve never experienced the effects of poison until now-“

“I knowwww.”

He cleared his throat. “I still need to figure out how to make an antidote. I have a slight suspicion of what I need and where I need to go to get it, but I’m worried about taking you.”

“I can handle a boat ride.”

“It’s not just that.” He dusted off his hands and picked up his bag, having finished his machine. “I need to go to the swamp. Do you remember how dangerous it was, even when you were healthy and capable?”

Willow sat on that for a bit. “Yeah, but-“ She held her breath, thinking in pause and fighting her own thoughts before finally letting out a defeated sigh. “I don’t want you to go, okay?!”

He could see that it was upsetting her. The distance thing. It made him upset, too. He already promised himself that he’d never make them split up when it wasn’t necessary, but her leg would slow her down and he couldn’t risk her getting in more trouble because of it. Science would make everything okay and he’d prove it to her by making her the antidote.

He walked over to where she was sitting and kneeled down. Willow stared down at her lap, lighter still flicking on and off but at a slower, gloomier pace.

Gently, he raised her chin with the edge of his knuckle and forced her to meet his gaze. “Let me do this for you,” Wilson said patiently. “I’ll be back before you know it, and I’m leaving you in good company.”

“Good company- what?”

He pointed to the wall behind her. A seagull squawked loudly as it pecked at its wing, tilting its head and giving her a stupidly hilarious look.

That got her to crack a smile, even if it was at the cost of a bruised shoulder. “I get it, you twit.”

His captain’s hat was still lying in the sand. With a good dusting, he fitted the cap onto his head with confidence.

“Hey, Wilson?”

“Hm?”

“Come back to me.”

He smiled faintly. “I’ll always come back to you.”

The wind was picking up again. He should leave while there was still daylight.

Wilson stuck something into the new machine and it whirred to life. “This’ll make ice if you need it,” he explained. “Use it for your food.”

A goodbye and a promise, and he was on his way.

 

* * *

 

Wilson finds out that it’s harder to gather the things he needs when his stuff is constantly flying away. Every second wasted is another second that Willow’s condition worsens, so he tries his best to gather venom glands from the depths of the swamp while narrowly avoiding punches from the scaly fishermen that reside there.

It is not an easy task. He gets the supplies that he needs but there’s new scratches on top of his old ones and it’s hard to stop the bleeding when he’s trying to concentrate on not dying.

Still, he makes his way back to camp, and the waves that he crashes into are freezing.

 

* * *

 

When Wilson returns back to camp, there’s an odd feeling in the air that he can’t quite place. His surroundings feel staticky, and he can hear a soft crackling of energy coming from somewhere around him.

It’s far too quiet, except for the blowing of distant wind. He notices an absence of bird caws when it was once all they could hear.

Willow isn’t under the palm leaf hut where he last saw her, and several of their structures are gone- either destroyed or missing. The strange sight is almost enough to make his heart stop beating.

Boat docked, he ran to their messy camp and scanned everywhere. Some of their things had been knocked from the chests and had flown into the ocean shore; tools, rocks, grass. His new machine is still here but without fuel, and his engine looked in rough condition. Several walls damaged. The puddles that start to seep into their camp inch far too close to them for his liking.

Still, no sign of Willow.

“Willow?” He yelled, unsure if he should expect a response. Goodness, he felt sick to his stomach. It all felt so _wrong_ and he didn’t know where she was or _what_ was happening.

Guilt tugged at him for leaving her all alone- they didn’t split up in this world for that exact reason- and now she was gone! He wanted to pull his hair out for even going through with it!

He tried to steady himself for a moment and recollect his thoughts; the gland was still in his pocket, and if Willow was in danger, it was still worth putting together.

Praying to science that the alchemy engine was still intact, Wilson hastily crafted the closest thing he could to an antidote. He carefully secured the bright green liquid into a tiny bottle. He tucked it into his vest pocket and was about to head into the forest when out came Willow in the flesh, running weakly towards him with a limp, an indescribable look of terror written on her face.

Her leg was coated in blood.

Wilson didn’t know how to begin, what to say, or what questions to ask. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you, I’m sorry-”

But she didn’t even listen.

_“We have to go!”_

Something huge was coming out of the woods.

She collided hard against him, frantically shoving him in direction of his boat. “Did you hear me?! We have to go!”

He stared behind her, frozen, and couldn’t find himself able to move. Trees fell one by one as they were torn up from the roots and blown away like scraps.

_“Wilson!”_

The closer it approached, the stronger the winds became.

And from the depths of the jungle emerged a giant seal, destroying everything in its path within the wind of its powerful and unstoppable tornado.


	2. when it rains, it pours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blood/injury tw

The first thing Wilson does when he snaps out of his thoughts is run.

Willow is next to him, her hand tightly clinging to his sleeve as she makes an attempt to sprint with her injured leg. As much as he wants to tell her to slow down- it’s not good to put pressure on that leg- the sudden rush of adrenaline takes over his thinking and all he wants is to put a hundred miles between them and that demonic seal from Hell.

The winds coming from the giant monster are enough to almost sweep them off their feet. He’s got to hunch down and help Willow into the boat, which is already in a poor and beaten shape and he wonders if it would survive one more trip overseas.

Wilson turned to look back at their camp, frozen in hesitation as he tried to remember if he left anything important behind. But before he could make a decision, Willow tugged him inside and started sailing away.

“What _is_ that thing?!”

“I don’t know!” She was tired and out of breath and so he took control of the boat for her. The blasted wind was making it hard to steer properly, especially with his hair constantly in his eyes. “It just came outta nowhere! There wasn’t time to make a boat so I just… ha, ran around in circles till you came back.”

There was a sad smile on her face. “Oh, Willow…” He wanted to comfort her so badly. If anything, he was relieved to know that he escaped off the island with her still mostly intact. It didn’t matter that he’d left all of his blueprints and engines behind; she was more valuable to him than any of his machines. They were easy to recreate once destroyed, but Willow not so much. But now he had even more guilt to carry on his shoulders.

That seal-tornado- _thing_ was occupied with destroying the rest of their camp, so they could still put some distance between them. And a few minutes to breathe before they reached harsher waves.

He looked at her apologetically. “I shouldn’t have been gone for so long. I shouldn’t have just _left_ you there. I’m sorry, I- I-“

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Hey, it’s okay, we can do apologies and stuff later... I just- I think something hit me back there, and my leg’s bleeding like crazy.”

Ack, that’s right! Now would be a good time as any to give her the antidote and treat whatever wound she’d gotten. He’d forgotten about it before while trying to run for his life, but now that they a moment to breath, he could clearly inspect what had happened. From the amount of blood coated down her leg, there was a possibility that a major artery’d been cut. He hoped it wasn’t, but in either case he’d need to hurry and stop the bleeding. Willow was getting drowsy and still.

He first handed her the anti venom, the bright green goop sloshing in a bottle. There wasn’t a point in treating her wound with poison still in her system. She looked at it with intense displeasure; all medicine was nasty to her, and being on the verge of death didn’t change how she felt about it.

“I’ll need you to drink that, it’s for your snake bite. May I push this aside?” Wilson gestured to her skirt, wet and damp with her blood, that covered her wound. He felt very silly asking for permission (even for the purpose of examining her injury) but did so just in case.

“Uh huh,” she affirmed, but lifted the hem of it for him so that he wouldn’t hesitate longer. Willow slowly peeled the side of her skirt away, wincing at the painful friction between fabric and open skin.

It was very, very bloody and dirty. Just above her knee was a large gash and some sand and debris embedded all over, all of it making her skin very swollen and discolored. Her ripped stockings were embedded and in the way and he’d have to be very careful in his process of removing it.

So something sharp must have sliced her leg as it was sucked into the tornado, then, in order for her to have acquired a such a large cut.

Admittedly, he did not know if they had the proper materials to bandage it up at this point, but he couldn’t tell her that. He also couldn’t tell her that her odds of surviving were next to nothing- not with her risk of catching an infection being a huge possibility. Assuming she survived in the next twenty-four hours, of course.

Willow sniffed the strange liquid and then, slowly, gulped it down all at once, coughing a bit as she let it settle in her gut. “Ugh, that was so disgusting! It’s like you doused it in salt and mucus!”

Must’ve been the seaweed he put in it. He hovered a finger along the edge of the gash. “How badly does this hurt?”

“I… It’s okay, I guess. I can wiggle my leg a little.”

He gently lifted her leg onto the other seat so that it held some elevation. She was handling this very well, though it was possible that she was going into shock if she wasn’t already in it. Her skin _was_ clammy and pale.

The boat rocked slightly as it sailed into stronger currents. The pressure to hurry as well as save both of their lives was making him perspire.

All of their medicinal supplies were back at camp. This meant he couldn’t make a salve or a more efficient poultice, but perhaps for now he could wrap her thigh in a makeshift bandage. Just something to stop the bleeding.

Wilson took some palm leaves and grass from his backpack and wrapped it around her leg, not too tightly. He could hold it securely with rope and apply constant pressure so that the gash would stop bleeding. If that didn’t help, then he’d resort to applying pressure to a major artery on her thigh, between the wound and her heart.

Wilson forgot that his other hand was still on her lap. Willow’s hand moved to rest on top of it, matching his crimson-coated one.

She was looking back at their island. The sealnado was an itty-bitty thing in the distance now, and it was safe to say that it wasn’t intent on chasing them any longer.

He sighed, turning the sails and steering to the nearest island he could think of. Both Willow and the boat needed to hold it together for just a bit longer.

Her hand drifted away from his. A tiny sniffle caught his attention in the midst of the wind and sea.

“Willow?”

“It’s all my fault,” she said, voice quivering. Like she was trying to stop herself from crying but couldn’t prevent the tears that threatened to spill. Her words were muffled by the bloody hands covering her face.

“No, no it’s not. You didn’t do this, Maxwell did,” he said, trying to comfort her by shifting blame. He really did blame Maxwell for all their stress, though. He made all the monsters for crying out loud! That wasn’t Willow’s fault.

Willow banged the edge of the boat with her fist, utterly saddened and frustrated by the realization and making him jump. “Yes it _is!_ If I wasn’t being cocky then I wouldn’t have gotten bit by a goddamn snake, and you wouldn’t have needed to leave me and we would’ve fled together just fine! But now I’m-“ she groaned and let her arm rest against her forehead. “I’m so hurt and I’m just slowing us down. It’s all my fault, Wilson. This place is making me go mad.”

“No, no, Willow-“ She was being so unfair to herself and it hurt him to see her like this. She always put on a brave face and did everything with confidence and _inspired_ him to be better. The consequences that occurred in relation to her bite were unfortunate, but it could never define who she really was.

Wilson switched seats so that he could be next to her. He wrapped an arm over her shoulder and let her curl up beside him. It… gave him another sense of familiarity, comforting her and being in her comfort, just another day in their unfortunate life that they needed to get through. She rested her heavy head on his shoulder, still faint even after her outburst.

She was cold and shivering and his body heat wasn’t enough, especially when his clothes were damp with seawater. “Where’s your lighter?”

“In my bag.”

He shuffled around and took it out for her, as well as Bernie, who looked like he was ready to lift his arms and throw a punch. Interesting.

“Tell Bernie that I’m on your side,” he quietly teased, sharing a smile with her.

Willow had a small grin. “You _are_. He’s not aiming for you.”

… Ah. So something was out there, then.

He looked at the ocean surrounding them, seeing nothing but an endless blue. A few quick shadows in the distance but the light on the waves could have easily casted a trick on his eyes, so he didn’t feel reliable. Bernie was a great protector and a great friend and he still wished Willow told him why he slugged around like a whole other living thing.

Oh, and it seemed that the rocking had died down, finally. If he was correct, this island should be fine for them to stay a few days at and they could try to recover here until Willow regained her strength and help salvage the rest of their camp.

The tiny flickering fire near him was soothing in a way that could lull him into a peaceful sleep. Or maybe it was the warmth of the fire combined with Willow’s softness as she rested against him that tempted him to close his eyes and pretend that today was all a dream. A horrible, maddening dream.

However, if he was feeling sleepy, then Willow felt even more so. He couldn’t let her go to sleep and risk somehow dying in the middle of it. He brushed her bangs to the side, stroking her hair to provide some form of solace. “You’re so smart and powerful,” he mumbled to her still form. A gentle nudge here and there. “You took down Deerclops and Dragonfly and all the other bad guys basically singlehanded. The Constant _fears_ you.”

She cracked a smile, making a noise of amusement and doubt as she weakly slapped his chest. She didn’t believe him. “Stop it, nerd. You know what I meant.”

“But I’m serious! I have the notes to prove it.”

Willow squinted. “Notes?”

“Recordings of each fight. You know, in my… journal.”

He forgot about its location for a half of a second and almost went into hysterics, until he remembered that it rested in his bag. It was in bits and pieces after his last accident, the sheets drenched in dry seawater and rendering the pages unreadable. He wholly chose not to continue writing until he had everything together. Camp included.

Although... he didn’t have one anymore, so, he’d have to submit to another long writing break.

“Uh huh,” she said, playing along. “Okay, yeah, I’m a goddess. A fiery goddess with one working leg.”

He gently squeezed her shoulder. “Yes, you are! Er- not the leg part, though. We’re gonna fix that.”

Willow shifted and let her head comfortably rest on his chest, a faint red on her cheeks. From what, he truly didn’t know (was it their unspoken thing?) but he was suddenly aware of how long they’d been holding hands and couldn’t stop the heat from rising in his face either.

“Yeah, I hope so,” she said. “I wanna get better so we can go home.”

 

* * *

 

It’s harder for them to recover when the storms are getting rougher and Willow’s condition goes through a series of ups and downs.

Some days she feels like she has a fever and other days she feels fine enough to go exploring with him. It hurts too much for her to walk by herself, though, and he doesn’t want to risk bringing her along and having her stitches come undone. Willow doesn’t want to risk being alone again. It is a dilemma Wilson can never bear to face.

This new island isn’t as roomy as their other one, but it would do for now. They have a few things scraped together, mostly basic things that they are required to have in order to survive. New science machines, crock pots. No hut just yet, but they sleep under the tall palm trees and nestle under their rain clothes as much as possible. Wilson’s grown used to sleeping with an arm around her and blames it on his guarded nature, much to his chagrin.

One night while they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder on the bedroll, he pushes his luck and tries to ask her more of what she can remember from their past. He feels like it’s something that’s barely lingering in her mind and can be lured from the tip of her tongue if he touches upon the right memory. He wasn’t particularly involved in psychoanalysis, but if he could just draw out those memories from her unconscious, then-

_“No.”_

“ _No?_ You really don’t know what happened afterwards.”

Willow used his chest as a pillow- purposefully, because she knew he couldn’t argue with her pinning him like that. There was a fiery glare in her eyes that let him know that she was annoyed. And rightfully so.

Her eyelids fluttered shut, but he wasn’t going to let her fall asleep just yet. “No, I don’t.”

“But we were always able to remember how we died and what our circumstances were leading up to it. It’s just strange to me that _suddenly_ I can’t think of a single darned reason why my brain’s malfunctioning.” Insanity, perhaps? No… couldn’t be. Could brains wear out from overuse?

“Yeah, but maybe it’s gotta do with the way we died. Buzzed out our brains and fried ‘em on the way to the touchstone.”

“So you used up the other touchstone we found, then. The one alongside the fissures,” Wilson said.

If she used that one up as well, it meant that they didn’t have any remaining ones left. They’d either have to discover more or resort to his own effigies again. He was itching to get working on it and in more ways than one.

Willow was fiddling with the collar of his shirt, thumbing the fabric with gentle precision. It was something she always did when she was nervous, except always with the hem of her skirt and never with his own clothing. He wanted to take her hand in his own and move it, but she was affirming his assumption and distracted him.

“Mm-hm. And then I sailed all the way to yours.” Willow’s hand moved to roam along his bushy chin, her voice a singsong melody. Yet there was a twinge of anger and… something else he couldn’t quite place. “You should shaaave.”

That was enough, he thought, an ounce of nervousness spilling in his chest at her touch. “Yes, I know.” He pulled her hand away, squeezing it, and held it to his heart.

He didn’t doubt her sense of direction. She was a Girl Scout who didn’t need a map to rely on where to go, but she was missing the point.

“Willow, I want you to understand that I’m trying to squeeze answers from you because I want to know what’s going on.”

She opened her eyes and met his icy blue stare. “I told you everything I remember. Don’t you believe me?”

“I- yes.”

“Then don’t worry about it. It won’t be a problem if we prevent ourselves from dying again. Though, I think I’d be the first to let you know.”

She was making a cruel joke out of her situation and he wouldn’t allow it. Not when there was still a decent chance for her lose progress on her recovery. “I won’t let you die,” he promised.

Willow sighed, an indicator that she was done with this topic. Enough of this conversation for now, he supposed. It irked him to keep pushing and pushing for it again. She was an honest woman but when he tried to put the pieces together, it just didn’t make sense. Wilson shut his eyes and decided that he no longer wanted to stare at stars; beautiful and fiery lights that for all he knew could be fake in such a fantastical and terrifying world.

He froze as he felt her lean up just enough to give his cheek a quick, chaste kiss.

“Good night, Wilson.”

He doesn’t say anything. Not that it’s because he doesn’t want to, but there aren’t any words able to form in his mouth. She used to give him good night kisses a long time ago and he’s never felt worthy enough to kiss her back. He was afraid of what would happen if he did.

Their lives were both a touch short and a tad too long and perhaps it was unfair of him to refrain from kissing her back because he didn’t want to ruin a good friendship with her over such a silly thing.

And yet, he still found himself wanting to every time he looked at her.

She was curled up all comfortably now, sleeping as peacefully as a catcoon. He’d been so indecisive that she’d drifted to sleep without waiting for his response, anyway.

He brushed her bangs to the side with the soft edge of his knuckle. “Good night, Willow.”

 

* * *

 

They dedicate the sunniest and calmest day of the season to clearing up their destroyed camp.

Willow didn’t seem to be distraught over the wreck, kicking a few stones here and there as she looked through the remains of her stuff. She never seemed to leave anything important behind, so the worst she could have possibly felt was the innate feeling of having to start all over again. And she was already quite used to it.

On the other hand, Wilson was disheartened at seeing his hard work strewn about and scattered into a hundred different directions, ocean and all. It’s something he’s certainly experienced time and time again, especially with the chaotic giants of the world, but the feeling still left him harboring resentment.

He was solemn as he disassembled the machines that were still left standing. His logic being that they were useless if left abandoned on the island and they’d better benefit from it with the materials it left behind. Salvaging all of the wood and rocks was not an easy task, nor was it enjoyable.

“I wanna go exploring after this.”

Wilson gave her a weird look. “Are you feeling better?”

“My leg’s kind of sore but I can handle it.” Willow picked up a piece of burnt paper and examined it. Probably one of his many blueprints, from the looks of it. “I want to see if there’s anything interesting out there. Like buried treasure.”

“You think there’s pirates?”

“Hey, you said it yourself! They exist. Don’t lie.”

He scoffed and she laughed at his stupid-forgetfulness. “Who else do you think’s been leaving all the empty bottles lyin’ in the sea?”

“I’m sure it’s just litter,” he said.

“Or someone’s been taking the maps out of ‘em.”

“Or it’s just litter.”

Willow crumpled up the blueprint and threw it at his head. It bonked him right in the forehead and landed at his feet. A sad, sad disappointment of science.

“Sooo, can we go adventuring or not?” She had that bright look in her eyes again, something that he’d missed seeing while she was busy recovering. “Please?”

Ack. He couldn’t say no to her, could he? “Fine, if you insist that you’re feeling so great. Are you well enough to sail?”

“Yeah, duh! My hands aren’t bloody and broken, are they?”

“I suppose not.”

She grinned. “I’m gonna need that captain’s hat, then.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and handed her the hat. It was becoming quite worn, but it fit well on her. She looked like a real captain. “What else, your Majesty?”

Willow winked and tapped her bottom lip. “A kiss.”

She must’ve found the surprised look on his face hilarious, because now her hands were on her knees and she was laughing up a storm; genuine laughter with snorts and giggles that he wished he could hear every day- _except_ for in this moment. He covered his face in his hands and waited out the blush that gave away his embarrassment. Wonderful.

When her laughter finally died down, he was glad that he wasn’t the only one beet-red in the face. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed,” she said.

He wasn’t going to hear anymore of it. “Let’s just finish cleaning up and go.”

“Okay, okay!”

Despite Willow’s injury and previous claims of being fatigued, she was aggressive when it came to steering their ship. Maybe she was fine after all. Like a reckless driver, she sped through the waves so fast- and at such an incorrect angle- that it tore off pieces of their boat and got them drenched from head to toe.

And Wilson _hated_ having his hair wet.

“You know, I believed you when you said you were well, but now I’m beginning to doubt myself! Did that seal take your eyesight, too?”

“Oh, shut up!” She yelled, peeking back at him to flash an impish smile. “I know what I’m doing.”

Wilson leaned back against the boat, feeling quite green. “I hope so, for our sake.” The dried, crusted blood on the floor wasn’t helping his stomach. He really ought to dedicate a day to make themselves a better boat and just have Willow burn this one to atoms and smithereens. He doesn’t even know how it’s lasted this long.

“Have you ever driven an automobile?” He asked.

He never pried too much into her past life; she always seemed to shadow it by changing the subject. He figured it hurt for her to talk about it. Hopefully, his question wouldn’t push past her boundaries.

Willow was saying something. His hat looked really, really good on her; it fit her quite nicely, and he questioned whether or not he should just let her have it.

Something was moving. She was waving her hand in front of his eyes, trying to grab his attention.

“I’m sorry- what?”

“I said I haven’t,” she shrugged. “From the looks of it, it can’t be that hard, though!”

“Remind me to never let you drive mine.” He covered his mouth and leaned away.

They’re sailing past familiar territory: a plain jungle island with ample vegetation and shoals when he spots something in the outer edge of the trees. He squints to get a closer look at it, turns to Willow’s face (she’s preoccupied with driving so she can’t see how pale he’s gotten, thankfully), and back to the touchstone that isn’t quite so touched. It’s the same one that Willow claimed to have used up.

Wilson doesn’t think he should read when he’s feeling so unwell, but he pulls out his map anyway. To his surprise and horror, it _is_ the same island, and he feels his heart sink in disappointment. Was it possible that she got the touchstone mixed up with one on another island, due to her recent lag in memory? If she had used it up like she said, then it wouldn’t have been there. At all.

There wasn’t a way to know for sure, just based off of those assumptions. Mix-ups were very much possible. He wasn’t looking forward to confronting her about it later on.

“You look upset,” Willow pouted. “Is it my sailing?”

He jumped in his seat, nearly dropping the map into the sea. He clutched it close to his chest, crumpling it in his hand and trying to regain his composure. “No, no, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

She smiled all warm and cheery and it made him think of the touchstone that was now waves away, abandoned and untouched and… waiting, just as they had originally found it. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“… Ah, just about how we’re going to build up our camp for the upcoming seasons.”

“I know you’re all grumpy about it, but don’t worry! You’ve got me, remember?”

Wilson sighed. “Yes, I’ve got you.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she slowed on the sailing and pointed ahead. “There’s something weird over there so I’m gonna go check it out.”

It looked… like a machine. A tall, green, boxy machine with a big lever attached to the side of it. Maybe it was the trick of the light in his eyes, but that thing looked extremely akin to a slot machine. He felt silly for even thinking about it, especially since he dismissed its existence earlier for something much more rational.

Did that mean pirates were real too, then?

As if Willow read his mind, she nearly leapt to her feet, almost forgetting for a moment that she still carried an injury. “See! See, haha, I _told_ you there was a lottery machine! And you didn’t believe me.”

Every time she stood up in this blasted thing, they risked being completely capsized and Wilson had to gently pull her back to her seat so that they could avoid a salty demise. She was trembling with excitement, either for the discovery of something new or because she had been right.

They pulled up to the shore and Willow rushed to it right away. Even with her limp she did not need his help getting out.

She admired it in awe. “Wow, do you think it still works?”

“Possibly.”

A part of him felt obligated to be excited along with her, his curiosity be damned, but it was such an odd thing to find in the middle of nowhere. What kind of trap could this machine be waiting for them to fall into? Any tricks and triggers hidden in its mechanism? Was it going to surprise them with a huge monster if he pulled the lever, or completely change the season?

He had seen so many of the Constant’s traps that although he wanted to disassemble the thing, he would need to push aside those temptations to step back and carefully assess the risks. And he especially couldn’t do that when there was a chance of hurting Willow from those risks.

The slot machine had skeletons around it. He counted two of them, each with their own handful of coins clutched in their bony hands. Wilson had an eerie feeling that they had gambled themselves to death, and that he and Willow may join them if they were not careful.

“You’ve still got your dubloons, don’t you?” He asked.

She nodded, showing him a collection of golden treasure hidden in her pockets. “Yep!”

There was a small slot where they could put the coins in. Oh, forget it. Their life was tedious, anyway, and if it was inevitably going to end in disaster no matter what they did, they might as well see how this thing worked.

For science!

“I suppose I could linger for a moment or two.”

Willow pressed a coin in his hovering palm, he put one in and gave the lever a pull. Several familiar symbols flashed before his eyes. Three different configurations for their fate, although he did not know how common or rare each of the outcomes were. Something told him that matching up three of the gold symbols could be just like winning a lottery. Perhaps it even supplied their ticket out of here.

They both watched in suspense as the carrot symbol aligned with the others, and an abundance of fruit came out of the machine. Willow eagerly scooped the dragon fruit and banana and watermelon into her arms like an excited child at a candy store. “Free dinner!” She chirped.

Okay, so they got lucky. It didn’t seem hostile thus far, but he worried what might happen if they landed on three skulls in a row. He confessed this to Willow and she didn’t seem to worried.

“I’ve got the sharpest spear ever,” she said.

“You can spin the next one, then.”  
  
“Yay!”

It feels like an hour has passed when they finally decide to take a break. They have enough food for many dinners; mostly fruit and vegetables and dried meat. New tools as well, even though he didn’t feel that a carrot symbol was thoroughly representative of something inedible.

They also discover that landing on triple skulls led to random creatures being dispersed from the machine, which was fine with Wilson, since he had previously assumed that it meant guaranteed death in some way. Instead, it was only snakes and spiders and other bugs, which was strange. Were they in that machine all this time? Or was it another one of this world’s magic tricks? One of the mechanisms he’d discovered was that it was impossible for him to spend a coin and not get anything in return. There would always be _something_ , good or bad, waiting for him as a prize to win. And no matter what, it always landed in perfect three-in-a-rows.

Wilson had kept up with gambling longer than Willow did. At some point throughout the hour, she had gotten a bad headache and decided it was a waste of time. Funny, considering they had gotten food and supplies out of it, waste of time or not. And he was not going to admit that he was clinging on to the slots more than he had liked, especially when he was now starting to see shadows in the corner of his eyes.

“You’re not done yet? How much pirate money do we even _have?_ ”

“I want to be, Willow, but imagine what we could win if we landed on all gold! There’s so many possibilities!”

She buried her head in her hands, groaning. “I don’t care! We can just come back and find out later. If ya keep going at it, you’re gonna end up like those skeletons.”

He looked at the withered one by his foot, grimacing. “I’m trying to do this for us.”

Willow scooped a handful of sand and threw it at him. He only stared back in equal displeasure. Didn’t she want to win something that would help them tremendously? For his own sake and hers? How could she be so selfish?

He fiddled with his sleeves. Perhaps he _should_ be stopping…

But Willow shot back. “You’re being stupid and careless!”

The symbols flashed by quickly. He nervously tugged on his sleeve, feeling a bout of anxiousness with every spin.

“Don’t talk to me about being stupid and careless,” he said. “I’m not the one who nearly died twice.” The words escape him before he can even question himself, and now she looked furious- and reasonably so. He wished he could take back his words as she marched right up to him and dug a pointy finger into his back.

“What’s your problem?! I’m always the one taking care of you when _you_ die, you selfish jerk!”

He didn’t look at her, but the loud voice behind him sounded angry and betrayed and hurt. Colorful shapes spun and spun and spun.

Willow continued on. “Is that how you seriously feel about me? You know, I could’ve left you when you died, but I didn’t!

“I sailed forever just to find you because I was so afraid of what would happen if you didn’t make it back! Because that’s what friends do, Wilson. They care about each other.

“And after all of my efforts, all of my time spent worrying and panicking and mourning, did you think that I _killed_ you just to be **funny?** Get your head on straight and learn what accidents are for once!”

Three of the gold slots lined up and something fell out of the machine.

Wilson grabbed the red amulet and turned to give it to her, nearly shoving the thing right into her chest and pushing her back. Willow stared up at him in alarm.

“I knew it.”

She stumbled backwards but his towering figure continued to loom over her. “Wait-“

“Willow, you _lied_ to me.”

His laughter shook his shoulders in bitter irony. Something always felt off about her and that day, and the thing with the touchstone, and now he knew why! She was feigning her memory so she wouldn’t have to tell him the truth of what really happened. “I always thought I could trust you.”

“It was an _accident!_ ”

Her hand reached to touch his face and he caught her wrist. “Darling, this only proves my point even more.”

With tremendous force, she pulled her arm away and threw the amulet at his feet. The red gem sparkled in the sand, unknowing of what was about to come.

“Then I don’t want your fucking amulet!”

Wilson held his breath. They never had an argument that escalated so quickly, and a part of him felt guilty for being so cold. But his headache was so unbearable and all he could do was berate her, and observe her the same way she focused on him. If she didn’t want a second chance at living, then fine.

She bit her lip like she wanted to say something else but couldn’t. It frustrated him, her freezing like a deer in headlights. “You’re not even going to apologize?” He took a step closer, “Or tell me why you did it? Nothing?”

“I-“ Willow covered her mouth with her hand. She was trembling, just as insane as he was, and cornered on the tiny island surrounded by an ocean that was all too willing to extinguish her. Too afraid and disappointed in herself to find the right words, and wallowing in regret.

She took a moment to recollect herself, and sucked in a deep breath. “There... was a bad storm. We were trying to find our way out of it, and- and all of a sudden the boat burst into flames.

“I didn’t know what to do, Wilson! I couldn’t control it! I don’t even know where it came from. The fire wasn’t going out no matter what I did and it was everywhere, it was burning the boat and hurting you and I panicked and pushed you overboard!

“I thought you’d be safe in the water,” She turned away from him to stare at the bluegreen sea, so beautiful and yet so deadly. “But you never came back up, and I didn’t know if you couldn’t swim or- or if something grabbed you and pulled you down under. I waited so long for you to come back up.”

Her story sounded more honest than any other time, but a part of him couldn’t grasp the full thing- or believe it, for one. After she set the boat on fire and consequently murdered him, she must have sailed with whatever wreck of a boat she had left to go and find him.

“Wilson,” she grasped both his shoulders, “I’m so, so sorry.”

He couldn’t move, or breath for that matter. It had all hit him the same: his naivety, her intentions, the lying. If it wasn’t for the fact that she had _killed_ him, accident or not, he wondered if their row would have been anything different. Playful, even.

But Willow had lied. She lied to him about dying alongside him to some unnatural cause that she didn’t remember- which is because she never died in the first place, and simply fled to the first location she knew he’d resurrect at- and pretended that everything was okay. It wasn’t.

He couldn’t even find it in himself to look at her.

“Wilson, please, I said I was sorry!”

He debated on giving her the cold shoulder, but went against it. Through gritted teeth he said, “I thought friends cared about each other.”

“I do!”

“You should’ve told me.”

Willow was panicking, he could feel the air begin to cool behind them. Her icy fingertips reached for his hand and gripped his palm, but he was still and angry and hurt and betrayed. “I wanted to! I was going to, but bad things kept happening and I couldn’t find the right time. Why don’t you believe me?”

He deadpanned. “Gee, I wonder.”

She could have punched him right then and there, but she didn’t. Instead, she made some sort of frustrated sound and let go of his hand. “You’re unbelievable!”

Wilson bit the inside of his cheek. There wasn’t a point in arguing. No matter the outcome, he’d be stuck with her in this cursed realm with a moving world that wouldn’t wait for them to finish fighting. They still needed to eat and find shelter and repair base, and at this point they were just wasting time. Funny, now that he was away from that blasted machine and no longer felt compelled to keep playing, he was welcomed back into reality.

He shook his head, picked up the disregarded amulet in the sand, and walked away from her, towards their boat that slowly bobbed up and down in rhythm with the gentle night’s waves. Willow planted her feet in the sand and refused to follow him.

“We need to go,” he spat. He wasn’t in the mood for her fun and games right now, and it was getting dark.

She was glaring fire and daggers at him. “No. I’m not done yet.”

Wilson exhaled a sigh of annoyance and disbelief. _“What?_ What more is it that you want, Willow? Me to forgive you just because you thought it was a silly accident?”

“Because it was! You’re not listening to me, I-“

“Please, get in the boat.”

“-I’d never hurt you. You’re my best friend, you’ve gotta believe me!”

He seated himself inside the boat. If he was cruel, and the option was certainly available to him, he’d sail away and never look back. Even though she lied to him and withheld it from him for so long, Wilson, however, wasn’t cruel- and she _was_ still his best friend. He cared about her too much to leave her here to die.

Willow’s fists were clenched as if she were furious, and she probably was, but her face stayed somber as she waited for his response.

“Let’s just go home. Please.”

She stared at him for a long time. He wondered what she would possibly do next (Start another argument? Refuse to go home? Set him on fire?) until it became evident by the tired motion of her slowly trudging her feet through the sand as she moved to take her spot in the farthest corner of the boat.

The air was so silent and full of tension that it made his gut sink and twist until it forced him to want to speak. Say anything, even if it was just an apology for acting so rude. Something was preventing him from doing so. Pride, or the like.

He’d began sailing away from that addicting and wretched island, now, and Willow hadn’t spoken a word either. He didn’t need to look back to know that she was probably curled up in a ball or playing with her lighter or watching the sea, anything to force her gaze away from him.

The amulet pulsed in his pocket, a quiet thrumming of magic in his ears. The faint red glow reminded him of all the times they had been at each other’s sides through thick and thin. He’d been the one who always put Willow at risk because she was always risking her life trying to rescue him. He needed her just as much as she needed him, and death should never, ever be the reason to pull them apart.

When they were together, they were unstoppable. So why did it hurt as much as it did?

Wilson looked at her tear-stained face and mumbled. “I’m sorry, too.”


	3. the fire and the flood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be human is to feel pain. To feel pain is to be alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally did it lads

Wilson counts down the days until summer, or what he thinks will be the equivalent of a summer. There is no winter as far as he can tell, what with this world being as close as it could get to being a tropical paradise and all. There would be heat, though. There was always heat.

He and Willow have about a week to prepare. Most of the machines are up and running again and their area is looking more and more like a proper camp every day. It’s not in the most useful location; the island is rather bare and sucked dry of resources, but it wasn’t harboring any potential threats and so there wasn’t a real reason to move. Next year he could suggest relocating when their situation was better.

Willow did not have an opinion on how their camp looked or what else they could possibly need because she had stopped talking to him. After their fight on that dreaded gambling island, he recalled the way she hugged her knees to her chest-  trying not to lose what was left of her mind and start another fire, most likely- as he sailed them back home. He still felt resentful for the way she kept that secret from him, and every now and then he finds that he touches the scars along his body, trying to remember the flames that licked at his skin and the water that filled his lungs. 

It hurt, physically and mentally, to know that’d she done such a thing. How _capable_ she was at doing it. 

So she’d understand why he was so upset about it, right? Best friends didn’t lie.

And that’s what he told her as soon as they got back. Wilson was willing to put it behind him for now because he still cared for her and they still had the job of living and eating and _surviving_ to do. But it seemed Willow was still keeping to herself, gnawing at her own guilt. He could wait patiently until she was ready to talk to him.

Right now, he’s setting up another machine, one that will snuff out the fires that Willow loves oh-so much. By now, he’s grown used to setting these up and it’s all just muscle memory to him. 

Willow sat by the shore, watching the ocean with a distant look in her eyes, allowing herself rest for once. She’s settled up as close to the shore as possible without touching the waves. 

Taking a deep breath, Wilson paused in his work and gingerly approached his weary friend. Her shoulders tensed as he sat in the sand next to her, a sign that she was still anxious around him. He didn’t want her to be.

“Hi,” he said timidly. “Enjoying the view?”

Willow doesn’t meet his gaze, but her expression has softened. “It’s all the same.”

“I- You know that I still care about you, right?” He’s quick and to the point, trying to get his message relayed in case she shuts him out again. It doesn’t matter if he looked desperate and silly, Willow needed to know. “I just want you to be-“

“Honest? I already know, so quit telling me.”

“...Careful,” he finished with a sigh. “You’re the most honest woman I know. I just want you to be careful.” 

Willow looked down at the bubbles on the tips of her shoes, a foamy residue left by the waves that have been climbing further. Her hands fell back into the sand and she sifted her fingers through it in thought. 

“I’m trying,” she said plainly.

“I know.”

“I won’t do it again.” 

He placed a hand on top of hers, directing her gaze towards him with his touch. “Promise me,” he urged. 

She rolled her eyes, annoyed. She must’ve thought that he didn’t believe in her. “I _promise_ I won’t do it again.”

A relieved smile and a pinky finger out, Wilson offered Willow to wrap her finger around his. “We’ll get out of here together, and we’ll watch each other’s backs no matter what happens.”

It enlightened him to see Willow smile again, he’d grown to miss it. Her small finger gently tugged at his own. “I’ve got you, stupid. I’ve always got you.”

Too quick for him to realize, he’s already pulled her into a tight hug flushed against his chest. Holding her was a comfort he didn’t know he needed, but their relationship was something that badly needed to be repaired. It gave him even more relief to know that she returned his hug, slipping an arm around his back and nuzzling his cheek with the warm palm of her hand. 

“Did you really mean everything you said about me?” Wilson whispered against her cheek. He knew it was something that she yelled out in the heat of the moment, but it was still amusing to see her squirm in embarrassment. 

“No… but you can be a real jerk sometimes,” she hummed.

There was that honesty he oh-so loved and admired. “That’s fair.” 

Willow bit her lip. “Sooo, are you gonna watch the sunset with me? Or are you too busy with your machine?”

“I had another idea in mind.”

She blinked, tilting her head curiously. “Oh?”

Wilson took her calloused hand in his and helped her up. The sky burned a fiery red as the sun began to set beyond the horizon, basking them in a nice orange glow. It suited Willow very well, who burned like a fire that thrived with renewed liveliness and warmth. 

Calmly, he led her hand to chest, taking the other in his own. He gingerly held her waist in turn. 

Willow snorted, leaning against him and swaying to the sounds of the waves crashing along the beach; her cheeks were flushed but he couldn’t tell if it was just the sunlight curving against her face. It’s a nice distraction from his busywork. “You could’ve just said you wanted to take me dancing,” she teased. 

He smiled nervously. Was he holding her too close? Her breath was so warm and he felt like his face could easily close the distance between them, but Willow wasn’t complaining… 

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said quietly. 

An unexpected wave crashed over their shoes and Willow squealed at how quickly their feet were drenched, but she was laughing. “How can I not?”

Her laughter was contagious as she tried to flee from the deadly sea. He needed to rescue her!

Wilson hoisted his friend up- she screamed again in surprise, gripping his shirt and hair and kicking everywhere as he plopped her down in the sand further from the water. 

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, “Well, there goes our chance of a nice romantic dance on the beach.”

Her arms were quick to wrap around him again, hands taking his in position. “Oh, please! It’s not like the water sizzled my feet off.” 

“The ocean never killed anybody,” he agreed. Except, ah, well- perhaps he was being too merciful. 

“I kinda like spending time with you,” Willow said, slowly swaying with him, “when you’re not busy focusing on work all the time and being a hardass.”

He was quick to boop her nose. She scrunched her nose at the touch. “You very well know why.” 

“Yeah, but still! It’s good to take breaks every once in awhile. Or else you miss things like…” Willow gestured to the sunset with the turn of her cheek. The sun was nearly halfway gone, spreading fire into the sea and sky, a pretty sight he realized that he hadn’t often taken the time to observe because he was always so busy trying to build machines or hunt for food. She was trying to show him what little goodness of the world that he was missing. 

He held her for a moment, almost slowing their movement to a halt. Willow was caught in another trance. He wondered what she was thinking in that brain of hers.

Hesitantly, and with his heart threatening to burst from his chest from anxiety, Wilson leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Not enough for her to break her gaze from the setting sun, but enough for her to fluster against his lips, face flushed and eyelids fluttering, the smallest hint of a smile. 

“I haven’t missed a thing,” he said, looking at her. 

He felt her face bury in his shoulder, all smiley and embarrassed. “What?” He said again. “I see you every day, so what’s the point in watching a sunset?”

“Okay, that’s it, you’re awful!” She huffed and pulled away from him, trying her best to hide the laughter coming from her mouth with her hands. The calm, airy feeling made his chest swell with pure happiness and joy. They were together again, she was annoyed at his teasing and everything felt right with the world. 

He followed her close behind, hands innocently placed behind his back. They argued with an unspoken affection. Promised things they shouldn’t have. But if they were working together again, then Wilson believed they’d make it through the summer just fine.

“I have a buncha seashells by the way,” Willow finally says at camp, she’s got many of them stored in the pocket of her skirt. “If you wanna build a boat with me.” 

Wilson gives her a weird look (they already have a boat, although it’s basically a piece of floating wreckage by now) but she tells him that it’ll protect their boat a little bit better. Willow is smart and creative and bright so he doesn’t hesitate to help her create a bigger, better, and more durable ship. 

For once, Wilson doesn’t mind living in the Constant.

 

* * *

 

The waves are a bright, shimmering green the next time they embark. While the sky drizzles them with a cool mist and the strong smell of salt overwhelms their nostrils, Willow sings shanties at the top of her lungs. Despite the water all around them, she is not cranky today, but rather bored. 

It’s a nice change of pace from the previous silence they used to be in, but Wilson can’t help that she’s starting to scare the fish away.

“As much as I’d like to join in with you, you’re making it awfully hard for me to catch dinner.”

Willow stops mid-song and looks at him with confusion. “Oh, wow, so you _can_ hear me.”

“I’ve been concentrating, thank you very much.”

Her hands give each of his shoulders a squeeze which make him fumble in alarm and almost lose a grip on his fishing rod. There’s no doubt that every living thing has vacated the area by now. “We’ve got plenty of stuff back home, you know! Sometimes I think you actually like fish. Why don’t you just tell me you like fish?”

He gives her a glare (but not a cruel one, mind you). It’s sarcastic with a hint of playfulness. “I never thought such a hungry woman would complain about a free meal.”

“Not at the cost of my sea shanties… Hey- did you even listen to them?”

Wilson rolled his eyes and cast his line into the water once more. “How could I not?”

His friend shuffles uncomfortably in her seat. Their brand new boat is stiff and sharp with new freshly cut boards. Per Willow’s request, the boat was lined with an array of seashells that would shield it from anything that chose to attack them, or water damage. Personally, he’d have preferred one that was roomier; more space for science, the better. But he couldn’t argue with her when it came to safety, especially with what happened after their little meeting with the Sealnado.

He tried to tell himself that no matter how peaceful this oceanbound world can appear, he should never let his guard down. Wilson learned to never trust the sea. It could take lives… the people who _lived_ in it could take lives. How could he continue to have hope and faith after losing so much?

But then he remembered Willow’s sunset, the way she showed him how she learned to cope with some of the misery in this place, that there were still gentle, beautiful things they could appreciate. 

Before he can think any more of it, there was a tug on his line, and out of pure reflex and muscle memory Wilson reels up the fish. It’s a yellow tropical fish of some sort, certainly delicious. He shows it off to Willow proudly but she doesn’t seem to be impressed.

“We should get coral instead. There’s some over there, see?” She nudges her cheek in its direction, a colorful array from afar. “That way I can do something while you do your old man thing.”

“I’m  _not_ old,” he argued weakly.

“Are too!”

Willow’s grin makes him roll his eyes once more, but he loves her enough to not let her get to him. She was right, anyway. She’s always right.

The coral reef they sail into is one that’s been untouched by any of their tools. Wilson makes a mental note that there’s far more fish colonies here than any of the other ones he’d seen before. Stubbornness prevents him from thanking Willow, though.

“Pretty colors!” She cooed.

“I never figured you the type to fall head over heels for coral,” he joked.

“They just look like underwater fireworks.” 

Wilson has settled into the fishing rhythm again when Willow swats at him repeatedly, distracting him from his task once more. With an irritated huff, he asked, “What?”

“You didn’t even look at _that!_ ” She pointed to something behind him in awe. 

Turning around, he can see that she’s pointing to a large castle in the water, covered in coral and starfish and the like. There are dark gaping holes that make him worried that something is hiding in there waiting to tear them to shreds.

“But what about your coral?” He squeaked.

“Who cares? I wanna check that out!”

Before he could warn her of a possibly impending doom, Willow moved in front of him to take control of the sails. He opened his mouth to protest but found that there were high pitched squeaks and noises beating him to it. It couldn’t have been Willow this time, and the sound _was_ awfully familiar…

“Ballphins!” Willow gasped.

Oh!

They stopped by the castle and a group of ballphins surrounded them, flapping in the water and squeaking happily at their presence. The tension immediately left his shoulders- ballphins could be trusted. They were scientifically known to save lives and were quite the intelligent creatures. At least that’s what Wilson last assumed. 

He saw Willow visibly flinch as the playful animals splashed her, but she didn’t seem to pay too much mind. It’d been awhile since they discovered a cute and friendly creature. 

“You’re not very flammable are you?” She said as she let her hand stroke one’s fin, completely engrossed in its cuteness. “I’m gonna name you Tuna!” 

He moved over to her side when most of the group swam back to the castle. His grumpiness diminished quickly at the sight of the particular ballphin’s flips and tricks. “Such a round, rubbery fellow. Want to see something cool?” Wilson offered.

When Willow nodded her head, he took out the fish he’d acquired earlier and displayed it clearly to the mammal. Then he threw it at a fair distance with some height, and to both of their surprise, the ballphin leaped and caught it in midair with frightening speed. It came back to them with a happy chirp. 

“I like this one,” Willow admitted. “Can we keep him?”

“I…” He closed his mouth, trying to come up with a good reason to keep a ballphin, but finding no permanent one. “It may be better to leave him in the wild with his group, but I don’t mind keeping him around for the day.”

Thankfully, Willow seemed to accept this. She hugged his arm excitedly, still a little damp from when she decided to pet a ballphin. “Yay! Great! It’s gonna be just you and me and Wilson now, Tuna.”

Now back to business… 

Wilson turned around and sighed wearily as he released his line into the sea. He could begin to tune out Willow’s high-pitched chattering, especially now that she had a little friend helping her out. From the corner of his eye, he could spy the mammal gathering pieces of fallen coral for her as if the two of them were playing a game.

Not everything in this world could be bad, he repeated to himself in his head. Willow convinced him so.

 

* * *

 

In the sudden arrival of sticky and uncomfortable heat, Willow is just as miserable as he is, but she’s more desperate to escape it.

Without waiting to warn him, she had tugged off her sweater and her white collar shirt and Wilson knows that he would have seen something he shouldn’t have been able to see if he hadn’t panicked and turned away in time. He threw his floral shirt in her general direction and yelled, “Please warn me the next time you do that!”

He never heard it hit the sand so Willow must have caught it midair. Hopefully, if she was merciful enough, she’d cover up in it. 

She sighed, exasperated. “I wasn’t expecting to be so sweaty and gross.”

“That makes two of us,” he reminded. “And now I’ll need to make another shirt for myself.”

“Sorry. Here, I’ll grab a few petals for you.” 

They were lucky to have some shade provided by the canopy of trees above them, but enough was never enough. Summer on the mainland had never been this bad. In the islands, it felt as if they were suffocating in a thick, dense fog- while being boiled alive. 

By now, Wilson’s got the flingomatic up and running for their little farm and with Willow’s help, a siesta lean-to. Her strategy was to sleep the day away and avoid the blistering heat of the afternoon, but he couldn’t help that he was missing out on the time to gather materials. It wasn’t exactly something he’d like to do in the dark. 

Something touched him on the shoulder. “Go make another one now,” Willow said.

He turned to thank her and _immediately_ twisted to face the other direction, his face as red as the summer sun. “ _Willow!_ ” 

She’d been hovering over him with petals in hand and an open view of her chest; the flowery shirt was unbuttoned and dangling at her sides. 

“What?” She laughed. “Are you _scared_ -“ 

“No! Just- just button yourself up, please.” 

“Or else what?”

“...Please?”

Willow made a raspberry noise at him and buttoned herself up to cover most of her undergarment. The top part of it was exposed but he didn’t feel like chastising her any longer. 

“Thank you,” he said as he took the petals and began crafting another shirt. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, embarrassed. Thankfully she didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, she wandered back to the shore, hands on her hips as she took in the world’s new orange tint. She mumbled something under her breath, not loud enough for him to hear.

“What?” He asked.

“I said there’s a buncha smoke coming from that direction.”

Unperturbed and still occupied with his work, Wilson shrugged and said, “Things might be catching on fire by now. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a whole forest burning down over there.”

A low whine. “I wish I was there to see it! The plumes look like puffy clouds.”

Wilson stopped in place for a bit, thinking. Forest fires could sometimes have fluffy clouds, he would know because Willow had set so many of them. Surely there weren’t any other exceptions?

“If it’s still there by tomorrow we’ll go and check it out.” 

Tongue poking out from his mouth, he leaned back and examined his work: another floral shirt nearly identical to the one Willow stole! Satisfied, he put it on and relished in the coolness settling in his back. 

“Hey, now we’re matching!” She smiled. “Mine looks cuter on me, though. You just look like a lost dad on vacation.”

“Must be some vacation,” he grumbled, although his gaze was playful as he met her own.

Wilson stood up and grabbed Willow’s floppy sun hat (she had to make another one, seeing as her previous one got lost in the whole Sealnado scramble) and plopped it atop her head as he walked up behind her. 

“Do you want to come with me? The puddles are drying up so we may as well go out while it’s not too hot yet.” 

She adjusted the hat on her head and gave him a weird look. “Where are we going?” 

He could tell that she wasn’t exactly in the mood to go out in this kind of weather. It was only going to get worse from here, though, and that was the only way he could convince her to sail with him again. Leaving her alone at camp was something he couldn’t bear to do again. The cranky look on her face was something Wilson would much rather see than a horrified one, and he’d surely do something mad if history repeated itself.

“I just want to stop by and grab something.”

Willow raised her brow, silently urging him for an explanation. 

“We’ll be quick,” he continued. All the puddles were melted now; daylight was burning and so were they.

“Okay…” She said after a moment of thinking, her voice uncertain. “Let me grab our thermal stones and I’ll meet you at the boat.”

“Will do.”

Wilson glanced back at the dark smoke rising above the clouds, hoping in the name of science that it wasn’t a sign of dark times ahead.

On the water, the waves were unexpectedly calm. Unlike the previous seasons which bombarded them with constant storms and harsh weather, the sea was as still and silent as a grave. If he were anywhere else but here, the soft ripples of water might have lulled him to sleep.

Willow shuffled in her seat, tucking her hands in her lap and tapping her foot as if she were nervous.

“What’s wrong?” He asked gently.

She looked away from him. “We’re heading in the direction of the…” 

_The slot machine_ , he thought silently. It felt like a tiny pin pricked at his heart and suddenly Wilson felt guilty again. 

“No, no, we’re not going there,” he quickly assured. Willow looked at him with a small frown but didn’t say anything.

In fact, what he wanted to collect was not anything important to the probability of their survival! He gave her a positive grin (she didn’t share the same comfort) as he pointed to something floating ahead of them. He hadn’t paid it much attention before- there were other important tasks to get to, first- but now in a brief moment of peace, he could properly get a look at the strange oceanic creatures he discovered. 

“You dragged me out here for a couple of jellyfish?” Willow said in disbelief.

He steered the boat closer to one of them. “You haven’t noticed how different it is to the others?”

“No, cause I don’t care!”

Wilson leaned over the boat’s railing to get a closer look. Unlike most of the jellyfish around their island, this one was a variety of colors and glowed spectacularly in the night.

“But Willow, imagine what it could do!” He chirped excitedly.

She sidled right up to him, watching the jellyfish swim by in a slow dance. “I know you’re sooo excited over this fancyfish,” she admitted, placing a hand on his shoulder, “but you know it could hurt us too, right?”

“That’s why I’m going to be the one to eat it,” he explained. “So _you_ don’t get hurt. It’s for the science.” 

She could have facepalmed right then and there but she didn’t, much to Wilson’s surprise. 

“I _guess_ there’s no harm in trying.” Willow shot a look towards his pocket but he didn’t catch on. 

Carefully, Wilson scooped the colorful blob with a net and placed it at the floor of the boat. 

“Hey, there’s more over there!” She gasped. 

Intrigued, he saw that his friend was correct; there was a pack of them swimming along, and right in the direction of the dark smoke clouds covering the hazy sky. Wilson leaned back in his seat in deep thought. These creatures must be migrating towards something. 

Something big.

“Aaaand your fancyfish is dead.”

“Willow,” he began slowly. “Is it a coincidence for these creatures to be migrating towards that smoke cloud over there?”

Willow shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. All I know is that the smoke should’ve cleared out by now. Maybe something really _is_ out there.”

“Precisely.”

Wilson felt the hair rise on the back of his neck as the idea started formulating in his mind. He almost felt stupid for not realizing it before, and of course the Constant wouldn’t spare them this terror!

He watched the jellyfish move on, the sinking feeling in his gut growing bigger and bigger. “We should go,” Wilson said shakily. 

“Go where? Why?” Willow looked at him with wide, confused eyes. 

He stuffed the wet jellyfish into his backpack. A black, ashy substance had already been beginning to fall from the sky. A speck of it landed in Willow’s held out palms and then she realized it, too. 

“I don’t know!” He said. “Far away from here! We just need to-“

Before Wilson could finish his sentence, his nightmare had come true as a loud, earth-shattering sound broke him from his thoughts.

The smoke wasn’t coming from a forest fire. 

It was coming from a volcano!

* * *

 

More wisps of smoke surged into the clouds, staining the warm sky with black. Wilson and Willow watched in awe and he had a feeling that she was more amazed than afraid.

“The fiery mountain speaks!” She exclaimed.

He quickly shook his head- this was not the time to stay and watch-  and sailed away so fast that he and Willow both fell back into their seats. She was peeking back at the volcano with her jaw hanging. 

Wilson didn’t know where to go. His mind raced through multiple scenarios where different possibilities of destruction occurred. He was already on the path back home, cutting through the ocean like a knife, but would they even be safe there?

As if to answer his question, Willow let out a frightened yell as she scrambled to his side. “ _Watch out!_ ” 

He saw a glimpse of an enormous flaming object hurtle towards them at terrifying speeds. It landed roughly behind them, very narrowly missing their boat and spraying them with a hot mist. Wilson couldn’t believe his eyes. Their boat was armored, but surely a single graze by that thing would wipe them out! It had to have been the size of a koalefant’s head! 

“Was that a meteor?” He asked fearfully. Volcanic rocks tended to escape during an eruption, but he didn’t realize how gigantic they could be. Willow didn’t answer; she held onto his bunched up shirt with white knuckles and pressed her cheek to his back.

He could see faint reflections in the water of where the meteors would land, but he knew that timing only one of them incorrectly would end in their demise. He had to be careful for both of their sakes- but he had no experience in sailing away from blasted meteors. 

Another one crashed just beside them, splashing them in even more water. The fiery rock sizzled as it collided with the sea and Wilson tried to not think of the horrendous crunching sounds it’d make if it landed a hit on one of them. 

Willow leaned over his shoulder, eyes scanning the sea for signs of the next ones and occasionally glancing back at the volcano. When he faltered for a second, she panicked and turned the boat to steer away from a huge shadow, her arms resting on both sides of his shoulders as she frantically rotated the wheel. Another meteor crashed next to them where Wilson almost hadn’t seen. 

“You idiot!” She hissed. “Let me do it!”

He scooted over and let her take control- not that he was going to complain since they were fleeing for their lives and he couldn’t catch his breath or calm his nerves. Willow’s fast and reckless sailing would be able to get them out of this faster than he ever could. 

“Just don’t go home until it stops raining down on us,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously!”

* * *

 

Soot and ash fell from the sky not long afterwards. Combined with the thick, muggy heat, Wilson found it hard to breathe, even when it was beginning to clear away. It felt like being inside of a fishbowl. 

“We _have_ to go back to that volcano,” he coughed. 

Trekking up the shore, Wilson looked like a complete mess. His hair was frazzled and dusty and his skin was covered in ash, as well as his poor clothes (which he would definitely need to sew again). And Willow didn’t look any different, what with her being used to the element of fire and all. It was like she enjoyed almost being killed by giant flaming meteors.

“I agree with you one-hundred percent,” she said, and if there was sarcasm in her voice he didn’t hear it. 

She followed closely behind him, her heels sinking in the wet sand as she made her way back to the camp. Like himself, her own pigtails were sticking up wildly, as if she had just come back from burning a forest down. It felt nostalgic to him. 

“Even if there isn’t anything inside, I’m sure it’s got some sort of special material brewing in it. Did you see the size of those rocks?” He exclaimed. “I wish I’d gotten a sample.”

Willow sat down in the opening of her lean-to, exhausted. “Uh huh, up close and personal. But as much as I reaaaally wanna see lava, I think we should wait until the weather cools down.” 

At that, she threw huge pieces of kindling into their cold fire. Wilson sighed at the relieving chill but his lungs and eyes and nose still burned from inhaling all of the smoke. Willow, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be affected, which he found slightly unfair.

“Mostly so I don’t have to worry about you passing out,” she added.

He made a playful face at her. “I wouldn’t pass out!” He definitely would pass out. Only a fiery goddess such as Willow could handle the heat of a volcano in the middle of the driest season. 

She stuck her tongue back at him. “Whatever. Oh, hey, didn’t you wanna do science on your rainbow jelly?”

His eyes lit up in realization. “Yes, that’s right! Thank you, Willow.”

Feeling rejuvenated once more, he fished the dead animal from his backpack and laid it out in front of them. Willow let her feet rest in the cool fire as she squinted at it again. The jellyfish’s tentacles twitched as if it were still alive. “Yeah, that’s nasty.”

“I might be able to revive it if I had something electric to shock it with…” he said to himself. 

Willow scoffed. “And then we’d have to kill it again? Seriously, no thanks.”

“Then I suppose this becomes the part where I…” Wilson gulped, looking back down to the twitching creature, “eat it.”

A slap on his shoulder, and Willow looked at him with a horrified expression. What? It wasn’t like he suggested eating a human!

“You’re letting me cook it first. I don’t want rainbow vomit all over camp when you decide that stuffing this thing in your mouth _raw_ is a good idea.” 

“But-“

“Butts are for sitting.” 

Willow hesitantly picked up the slimy jellyfish and hovered it over the flame of her lighter in a slow roast. “You can thank me later.”

“Mm-hmm…”

As he waited for the food to finish cooking, a peaceful silence falling between them, his eyes automatically found themselves drifting towards Willow’s leg where her wound used to be. She wasn’t limping anymore which was a fantastic sign, but he wondered if it still bothered her. Even as she roasted his meal, he could see her elbow rubbing against the fabric above the old injury in discomfort. 

“How’s your leg?” 

Willow looked up from the fire, surprised. “It’s all good now, just a little sore if I press on it, but it still itches from time to time.”

“May I see?”

She nodded and set aside her busywork to pull down her ruined stocking. Then she resumed her cooking again as Wilson moved closer to examine the scars along her skin. 

The main gash that was almost enough to end Willow’s life left the faintest hint of a mark, red with itching and peeling where it might have reopened at some point. There were other smaller scars beside it that were not as concerning, but Wilson knew that they must have been sore all the same. 

Gently, he dragged his thumb along the biggest scar, feeling a combination of both the bumpy ridges of healing as well as smooth skin. She shivered at his touch; he could easily feel her goosebumps, too, and so he quickly pulled away.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “if I-“

“It’s okay, it just tickles. Don’t worry about it anymore,” she said. Then she handed him the cooked jellyfish with a smile. “Pretend that all the colors are the seasoning.”

He held it close to his face and sniffed it. It only smelled salty, like everything else they managed to catch in the ocean, except there was a hint of something he couldn’t quite place. Hesitantly, he took a bite out of it, expecting something to be extraordinarily different or even something painful. But it only tasted like a regular jellyfish.

“That’s strange,” he said as he continued to chew. “It tastes normal- why are you looking at me funny?”

Willow had a hand pulled up to her mouth to cover what he thought was a big grin. 

“Did I get some on my face?”

A flutey laugh escaped her. “No- No, Wilson, you’re glowing!”

“I’m- what?”

“You’re glowing like a rainbow!”

“There’s no way that’s scientifically possible,” he said, although the way Willow looked at him was beginning to give him second thoughts.

Unable to stop her giggling fit, she cupped his face in her hands and tilted him in different directions, examining his features from all sides.

“I don’t even know how it works!” She said. “You’re just a glowy, colorful light. And you change colors, too.”

Wilson didn’t have a mirror or a glass shard to look at himself with, and the ocean was a few ways away. He looked down at his hands and saw that he was, indeed, glowing. 

_But I feel perfectly normal!_ He thought, flipping his hands back and forth to look at both sides, touching his skin, trying to imagine how in the world it was possible for human beings to glow in this way.

“If it makes you feel better, it makes you look cute,” she grinned, “like an adorable night-light that’s hard to lose.”

“Hard to get rid of, you mean.”

“No!” 

She laughed and threw her arms around him, and he felt like the luckiest man in the world. The way she turned to press her face against his left him at a loss for words. “Ha, well, maybe. Hard to get rid of but in a _good_ way.”

He chuckled, rubbing his hand along her back. “I know.”

Her laughter eventually bubbled away, though her arms remained around him and her face continued to nestle in the crook of his neck. 

“Willow?”

She grew suddenly stiff and quiet, her arms remained intertwined around him. 

“What is it?”

Slowly she pulled away, leaving him to wonder if anything had happened. He looked down at his hand (the glow was fading, much to his relief) and returned to see Willow examining him with a sad curiosity. 

With her hands rested on either side of his neck, she said, “Nothing. It’s just that I’m glad you’re still here.”

Wilson cupped her face, dusty and ashen from their journey, and gingerly brushed the soot from her cheek with his thumb. She leaned into his touch with a quiet sigh.

“After everything?” He asked.

She nodded, and he took the opportunity to continue. “I’m glad you’re still here, too. Who else is going to explore that big volcano with me?”

Willow’s mouth tugged upwards, her shoulders shaking in a silent laugh as she moved to rest against him. The lovely smile spread to his own face as he continued to wipe the ash from her temple and down to her jaw. 

The fluttery movements of her lashes tickled against his skin. “I don’t know what we’re ever gonna do about this thing between us,” she drawled, and Wilson thought his heart had skipped a beat, “but I’ll be happy when you finally come around to it.”

He pulled away slightly to look at her, puzzled, but shocked that she had guessed him all the same.

“What do you mean?” He asked, dumbfounded. 

“Friends don’t kiss each other like we do.”

Wilson blinked, feeling as if he could disintegrate on the spot. It was his turn to cup her face in his hands and force her to meet his gaze. “You’re the one who’s always kissed me.”

“Wrong,” she smiled, narrowing her eyes mischievously. “You like me.”

He held his breath, trying to think of a rebuttal, but there wasn’t a point in denying his feelings. Not when she knew, and especially not when she would continue to tease him for it if he kept on saying no. 

Puffing out his cheeks, Wilson tried to focus his attention on anything that wasn’t her face. “I like you.”

“You know, your blush is easier to see when your face is glowing.”

He looked at her in embarrassed shock. It was useless to fight back; Willow was already hiccuping in laughter. 

 

* * *

 

More days pass after the volcano’s first eruption, and Wilson grew worried when the next one would be. In a perfect world (and they were far from a perfect one), the volcano would hibernate and leave them alone for the next hundred years. 

This one continued to threaten them with signs of doom. They could only rely on visual and audio cues, which he felt like weren’t enough. What would they do if it caught them while they were on land?

When the meteors hit the water, some of them crumbled apart into what Wilson noticed to be some sort of obsidian material. He had no doubt that it possessed a power even greater than its smaller crystalline counterparts; it hummed with a liveliness similar to a red gem and was difficult to break apart. It further convinced Wilson that something terribly powerful deep within the volcano. 

But he couldn’t do anything about it until it erupted, first. 

The hard sound of an axe driving into a tree made him jump. It was just Willow getting more wood (most likely to toss into their cold fire) and he settled back into his spot, fingers fidgeting against his lap.

Willow looked at him from the corner of her eye. 

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” she said.

“And what’s that?” Wilson replied, playing along.

She didn’t look at him as she picked up her pile of logs. “You keep worrying about when the volcano’s gonna erupt again.”

Willow continued to speak while he sat there in awe. “And you reaaaally wanna do a science experiment but you’re impatient about waiting until after it erupts.”

“...Perhaps you ought to stop reading my mind.”

She grinned. “I told you, I’m a witch.”

Wilson shook his head in disbelief and buried his nose back into his journal. Willow was just full of coincidences, that was all. Obviously, anyone else who was stuck in their predicament would feel the same way. What point was there in going out when there was such a huge risk in doing so?

But… at the same time, she _was_ right- it could take ages for the next eruption and he should just act as quickly as he can.

He bit his tongue in frustration.

Willow dropped some of her spoils into the cool flame and it enveloped him in a blue glow. It was either the realization of his idea or the fire’s chill that caused goosebumps to ride along his skin, and he looked to Willow with wide blue eyes.

“We should do it as soon as we can,” he decided quickly.

“Okay, I’m not _that_ great of a mind reader-“

“What if we could gather more of these?” He raised the obsidian to meet her eye level. “I’m shivering at all the possibilities of science we can do with them!”

She brushed her shoulder against his as she sat down. “No, you’re just cold. And I thought you wanted to _avoid_ the volcano until after it erupted? You’d burn to a crisp!” 

She had a point, but fortunately, Wilson had already thought of another idea.

He waved the obsidian around again, casting glints of light on their faces. The hot rock was starting to burn his fingertips. “My dear, how do you think I acquired this?”

“You got it from the… ocean?”

“Indeed. We can avoid the volcano entirely- for now- by searching for these pieces right in our watery backyard.”

As confident as he sounded, his partner still seemed uncertain. “They could’ve totally sunk to the bottom by now.”

Wilson put down his journal, revealing a messy sketch that Willow had to turn her head in order to see. Among other scribbled out concepts and chicken scratch, he’d left one final charcoal drawing circled in the very center. 

“Precisely, and I doubt they’re going to wash up on our shores any time soon. That’s why I want to create a trawl net.”

She stared harder at the drawing for a few moments longer, and then snorted playfully. “Oh, so _that’s_ what that was! Okay, well, I’m on board with your science plan. Just remind me to teach you how to draw when we come back,” she giggled.

Wilson rolled his eyes and shut the book. Building the net wouldn’t be the hard part; the hard part was ignoring Willow’s bouts and insults towards him. And it will most definitely be her patience if they don’t manage to catch anything good.

Time and experience taught them how to craft things quickly. In just a few moments, they scraped together their materials to build the net. She found it easier sewing the silk together while he twisted the rope ties into place. 

Science was always easier with a lab partner.

“You know,” he said as he wiped the sweat from his brow, “if something ever happens to you when we go back home, you could always come work with me.”

Willow smiled helplessly, holding a hand to her mouth to cover her grin. “Is that your way of getting women to come live with you?”

He felt himself blush again and silently cursed himself at the wording. “No, I-“

“I’m just joking.” She squeezed his arm assuringly, and then added in a softer voice, “I know what you meant. I might even take that offer up later, if you promise to hold the spot for me.”

Her smile was contagious and he looked to her, unable to stop his own mouth from curling upwards. “Of course I will.”

“Now let’s go get your science junk.”

Together, they fastened the net to the back of the boat so that, as they sailed, they would be able to collect the spoils that the ocean left for them. With any luck, he could acquire something rare. 

Willow’s stomach grumbled. “I hope this catches our dinner, too.” 

He raised the sails, lurching the boat faster over the calm summer sea. “I imagine it would.” A quick glimpse at the volcano- no signs of another eruption, yet. 

The further they sailed away from the beach, the darker the water got, and the closer they were to the areas that the volcanic rocks landed. Willow peered over the edge in an attempt to spot any drifting remains while Wilson kept an eye on their trawl net. Already, it had managed to snare several jellyfish and mussels, as well as fish bones. No sign of the obsidian yet, much to his disappointment. 

“We might have to check again after the next eruption for more fire rocks,” she shrugged. “It could be too late.”

He didn’t want to admit that might be the case, but Willow was right. He continued to watch impatiently as their net gathered more bones and coins and an abundance of other wet objects before making a mental note to create another one.

As soon as he pulled out his backpack, Willow’s voice shrieked in his ear. 

“Wait! There’s one!”

Wilson immediately scrambled over to go look. It was hard to see through the net in the water, but she was right- their net had snagged another piece of obsidian! 

“Perfect timing, if I do say so myself.”

“Do you think we could catch some actual deep sea treasure?”

He tapped his finger against the boat in thought. 

“Possibly, but it’s rather unlikely, as-“

The waves, once quiet and serene, ruptured in a watery explosion all around them. 

An ear-splitting screech broke through the air as something jutted out of the ocean, nearly knocking their boat to the side and capsizing them.

Already soaked to the bone, Wilson let out a yell as he was hit with wave after wave. 

“What’s going on? I can’t see!” He heard her cry. 

She had fallen in her seat, back against the boards and her hand gripping the edge for dear life. Wilson did the same, catching glimpses around them whenever he could. Whatever misfortune occurred had caught them off guard. 

“Don’t move!” He warned.

Nearby, he could make out a giant tentacle writhing in the air. Combined with many other tentacles that were spread out, it was causing the waves to rock their boat violently. 

His first thought was to grab his weapon and fight off the tentacle closest to their boat, but Willow had snatched his wrist and prevented him from doing so.

Her wet bangs clung together in strands that went over her eyes and mouth. Pure terror marked her features. “What about _that?!_ ” 

Despite the loud sounds of crashing around them, he had entirely forgotten about the creature they had awoken in the midst of their journey. Had this been all his fault? In the deep sea, how had he disturbed this creature? There’s no way he could have reeled it in!

Far away from them was the head of the biggest monster he had ever seen. More massive than the Sealnado, the beast’s three giant eyes and piercing sharp beak were more than enough to convince Wilson to flee again. They had an armored boat, but it was impossible to predict how many hits they could withstand, especially now that they were flooded. Besides that, they only had meager spears to fight with! Sharpened flint would do little against a creature of this size. It was as if the sailor’s tale of the Kraken had come to life. 

“We can’t fight it!” He yelled, but Willow shook her head, her eyes never once leaving the monster’s horrid face as it stared down upon them in fury.

“But it won’t let us leave.” 

And she was right. All around them, the creature’s tentacles waved in the air. If they got too close, one hit would surely break their bones. He felt his knees buckle in defeat; there was nothing they could do, but every minute of them standing there was every second their boat was getting more and more drenched. Wilson didn’t know how much longer he could handle getting seawater in his eyes, nose, and mouth.

He felt Willow’s hand grip his as the Quacken (he dubbed it after the rubbery noise that came from its beak) hissed and raised a tentacle at them. In quick thinking, she’d steered them away, but the water that it had impacted left waves big enough to almost topple them over again. He had to scramble to grab her waist so that she wouldn’t fall overboard. Something black had whizzed past them in the moment but he couldn’t get a good enough look to see what it was. 

Trembling, Willow grabbed her spear and faced the giant beast’s burning stare head on. Compared to its monstrous size, she was a tiny thing that held no intimidation, but Willow was not one to be underestimated. She had the heart of a lion, and courage far bigger than any sea monster they had yet to face.

Wilson realized that she had avoided the tentacles on purpose, but had been fully intent on killing the massive thing. _She sailed in the direction of its head so that she could fight it!_

“Willow, wait!”

Crying out in fear and anger, Willow began slashing the Quacken’s neck, leaving indents of red across its scales. Wilson fumbled with getting out his own spear, knowing that he couldn’t leave her to fight all by herself. The nearest tentacle slammed down against the side of their boat, nearly knocking them into the sea, but Willow kept on going.

“It can’t fight back!” She panted with renewed energy. “When we’re up close, it’s defenseless!” 

He wanted to yell that the tentacles surrounding them all around them like a minefield _were_ its defenses, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to hear his shout over the loud noises of the rumbling sea. Wilson clutched his spear, frozen in place as he watched Willow’s fury in disbelief. Adrenaline flooding him, he could have almost dropped his spear into the water if it weren’t for his nails digging into his palm in a tight grip.

But he remembered how helpless he had been when the Sealnado attacked Willow, how he couldn’t even fight it back. How silly was he, to not help her out _now_ when the next monster was right in front of him waiting to be killed?

He was wasting his time standing like a statue when she was doing all the work. 

Finally, after coming to a decision, Wilson let out a yell and lunged at the Quacken with his spear. With his feet planted in the boat, he was able to dig into the spots Willow had been slashing at. However, the frantic squawking combined with the writhing of the limb behind them grew louder and louder, and soon enough the entire head of the animal submerged underneath the water again, sending their boat flying backwards. 

Ripples overtook the water’s green reflection as each of the tentacles fled with it. Wilson and Willow looked at each other in shock, wondering if the fight had really been that easy. But before any of them could open their mouth to say anything, Wilson felt his heart drop again when the Quacken’s head reappeared just a few ways away from them, and the tentacles emerging around their boat once more.

Willow let out a loud, frustrated noise. “We can’t keep doing this!”

She knew the risks of turning back just as well as he did. It was easier to move closer to the Quacken’s head than it was to attempt to dodge the tentacles on their way out. They were truly at a loss, but he knew that she would refuse to give up. (He, on the other hand, refused to let her get hurt trying.)

It was no use to convince her to flee, but Wilson dreaded fighting all the same. That didn’t stop him from speaking his honest mind, however. 

“We can,” he said shakily. “I’m always with you.” 

Willow smiled sadly. The Quacken’s shrill cry filled the air again, reminding them of their limited time. 

Together, they sailed through the sea of endless waves. Wilson hissed as one of the tentacles nicked his hand while hitting the side of their boat. He yelped in pain, but it was too late for either of them to do anything, and hopefully his adrenaline would distract him. 

This time the Quacken was expecting them. Once they approached, it lobbed a ball of black ink directly at them, staining them and their boat and stopping them from a swift sailing. Heavy and pungent, he nearly gagged as it burned his eyes. Willow let go of the boat’s control to try and shake off the ink, muttering quick “ew’s“ in desperation. 

They didn’t have time to be slowed down! Stuck halfway between its head and one of its furious tentacles, Wilson truly understood the severity of their situation. He looked to Willow with dreary eyes. 

The shells that aligned their boat were starting to crack, and with the amount of water constantly hitting him, he didn’t know if it would even have the strength to take them home. 

Willow, on the other hand, refused to admit defeat. 

“I can’t go through this again,” she wailed miserably. “We got so far! Wilson, we can do it!” 

A few stray tears slipped down her face, black ink mixing in with her agony. He wanted to take her in his arms and wipe away the mess. With the ink burning along his own face, Wilson believed that he looked and felt the same exact way. There was simply no time left for him to say what he had always wanted to be said.

His eyes flashed between her, the boat, and the monster who screeched at the top of its lungs. In a moment of panic, he truly didn’t know what the best option for them was. 

Without waiting for him to speak, Willow stood up, almost toppling them over entirely.

“What are you doing?” He yelled.

“Putting an end to this!” 

Clutching her spear tightly, Willow moved into a throwing stance, and Wilson couldn’t believe what she was about to do. 

Winding her arm back, she launched the spear with frightening speed into one of the Quacken’s enormous eyes. With a heavy breath, it let out a mighty scream at its impact, a sound that could be heard through every island between sun and sea. 

They were violently shaken again and Wilson was only barely able to see how deeply buried she was able to embed the weapon before one of the tentacles slammed their boat right in the very middle, splitting him away from Willow and breaking their boat in two.

He remembered trying to yell as he slipped down under, his hands reaching out wildly in hopes of grabbing Willow, something, _anything,_ and finding nothing but wooden debris. Visions of his past life came flooding to him, moments of drowning as they pulled him to the bottom of the deep blue sea. He didn’t want to die, his thoughts echoed in his mind like a mantra, panic fueling him to find a way back up.

If he tried to open his eyes, he could see a waning darkness that surrounded him from all sides. He swam amongst the thickness of ink that was so dark Wilson had almost forgotten which way the surface was.

He kicked and kicked his legs until he felt the ocean break through, and Wilson gasped desperately for air. The scent of smoke wafted into his mouth. Something had lit the wreckage of their boat on fire, and to his disappointment, the monster was still around him, cutting through the ocean with its many tentacles in an attempt to find and end them. 

“Willow?” He coughed, looking all around in hopes of seeing her dark hair amongst the wreckage. 

He tried calling again. “Willow!” 

When he couldn’t find her, he knew that with a gripping fear in his heart that she hadn’t resurfaced yet. Something thrummed in his pocket, beating slowly, but he paid no mind to it as he took in a deep breath and dove into the water once more.

The gentle humming of a heartbeat grew louder and louder in his ears. He swam further into the wreckage, looking around desperately, praying in the name of science that They hadn’t grabbed her yet. 

And swimming deeper into the sea, a pressure weighing in his mind and body, he saw a glimpse of red in the corner of his eye. 

Willow was pinned underneath what looked to be their mast. She lay perfectly still, seeming to be unconscious, until she twitched at his frantic approach. 

She looked at him with eyes that ached with sadness and regret. He needed to save her. He could see why it was hard for her to get the heavy strip of wood off her; the end of it had wedged itself between rocks. Gritting his teeth, he used what was left of his strength to try and lift the mass off of her midsection, but it was hard to budge and he could feel his lungs burn the longer he stayed down under.

A few bubbles escaped from his lips as he looked to his light, who had been watching his attempts in a blurred daze. She had realized, and already accepted, that she was going to die.

With a wordless cry, Wilson cupped her face in his hands. Under the water, her raven hair (which had fallen out of their pigtail shape) surrounded their faces like a black curtain. The humming grew louder and louder, and the red glowing in his pocket became so bright that it was nearly impossible for him to forget that he was carrying the amulet this entire time. 

The gentle glow cast light into the darkness. He could see the shadows more clearly now: they were watching. Waiting. As if they were a show to be indulged in.

He brushed the hair from her face as he placed the amulet around her neck. She tried to cry out, more bubbles escaping her lips as she tried to push aside his attempts, but he simply held her hands down, even when she tried to rip hers away. 

They were coming closer, now. A terrifying death awaited him once more, and Willow knew it. She kept shaking her head and using what was left of her breath to try and get him to take the amulet, but he wouldn’t. 

With one hand still grasping her face, the other floated weakly at his side as his vision grew dark. He could feel their sharp talons grab at his sides, his arms and legs, pulling him away from her. Down to an even deeper part of the sea.

The last thing that Wilson hears is her distorted cry. 

 

* * *

 

  
  
To be human is to feel pain. To feel pain is to be alive. 

As Wilson took the first breath of his new life, he fell to his knees with a sob stuck in his throat. The remains of the touchstone lay by his side, now useless after his second coming. No matter how often he had died, he could never get used to the feeling. Along his body were new scars left by the ocean, and electricity tingling in his palms from the sudden flash of lightning that had struck the very spot he collapsed on.

Wilson banged the ground beneath him angrily, a bruised fist against the wooden boards, before anxiously digging a hand through his ruffled hair.

Willow was out there, alone and scared, still at the bottom of the sea. This would be her first death in this place, and she was all by herself. Inevitably, she would have drowned right after him, but where would the amulet have taken her? Would the ocean push her farther away from him?

Singing. He thought about her singing. It filled the loneliness of the air like a sweet melody, until he realized that there were parrots in the canopy above, taunting him with each song. He was alive, and he had already missed her. 

With the shadows peeking from the corners of his eyes, he knew that he couldn’t stay and continue to hallucinate. Once more, and this time under the searing summer heat, Wilson was going to work his way back up.

And more than anything, he was going to see her again.


End file.
